


Kaiju?  I Hardly Knowju

by confusedkayt



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Background Relationships, Background relationships include Hermann/Vanessa, First Time, Jaegercon Bingo, M/M, Mild dom-sub because Hannibal Chau, Shatterdome Family, Slow Build, Some potentially upsetting references to WMDs, WARNING: THIS TAG GIVES EXAMPLES OF ABLEIST LANGUAGE: e.g. 'idiot' and 'moron', Warning: Hannibal and Hermann use ableist language when expressing frustration with Newt, Warning: non-explicit references to Hannibal's past use of human testing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-14
Updated: 2015-04-20
Packaged: 2017-12-23 10:26:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 97,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/925272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/confusedkayt/pseuds/confusedkayt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hannibal Chau is, apparently, not dead.  And kind of funny.  And good to work with.  And also <i>terrifying,</i> but also kind of not, and that's really weird but also pretty cool.  This is, apparently, Newt's life.  At least there's a metric ton of interesting work to be done, reasonably cushy funding (goodbye, Jell-o, hello <i>actual chocolate</i>) and a lab partner who is, surprisingly, kind of a ride-or-die badass.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. That's The Way The Cookie Crumbles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is set 3 days after the Breach closing.

So, this isn't working out so well for him. First of all, ok, maybe asking Mako for giftwrapping advice had been, in retrospect, kind of a horrible idea. It wasn't because she's a woman, he swears, although maybe it was a little bit, because maybe that's got something to do with her rocking style and general ability to make her little room-cell-thingy look like a grown-up lives in it, but he didn't mean it that way, oh god the disappointed little look on her face... Anyway, if Newt didn't feel like shit already, she'd informed him firmly but politely that Jianguo doesn't drink, has in fact been dry for three years and counting, so maybe a bottle of Scotch (or whatever he purchased which is labelled as Scotch, the bottle's right but honestly he's a little dubious) is a really stupidly horrible gift idea, and he feels terrible about not knowing that, but his Cantonese is not great, ok, and they kind of chit-chat but not about anything important, and besides he's been a little busy, which, so has Mako, so it comes back down to "I am a horrible person and Jianguo probably hates me because nobody else has slime crusts to clean up and all of the extra ration books I've wormed out of Pentecost over the years for his kids are in no way compensation for having to deal with the gross, gross blood-kaiju-and-medical-goo mess I left in the lab even if it helped save the world, that still sucks, buddy." So what Newt's saying is it's back to the drawing board, here. Which is why he's trawling through the streets looking for an open bakery or something in the middle of day 2 of the "Yay, There Is No Risk We're Gonna Be Stomped Into Dust By Kaiju Today Or Ever Again" party. He could have maybe thought this through. But, seriously, _Hong Kong_ , somebody's got to be selling something, right? Which is how he ends up in the Bone Slums, kind of mostly by accident, but seriously, if liquor's not gonna work prettymuch nothing in the Bone Slums is what you'd call an improvement and he doesn't love the looks he's getting.

He loves the big old hand that lands on his shoulder even less and holy _shit_ wouldn't it be ironic if he'd lived through all that just to get shivved on the streets trying to buy a goddamned pastry for the nice janitor and that is totally a knife in his side. "Wallet's in the right pocket," he squeaks, because just maybe he can head this off at the pass and oh god that means he's gonna have to walk all the way back home and there's a snort, hot and heavy enough to ruffle his hair, what a stupid way to die...

"I don't want your pennies, kid," and wait, he knows that voice, impossible, he saw the guy get eaten, this is just... un-possible, no way, no way. Then he's spun around roughly and, ok, yes way, that is totally Hannibal Chau, accept no substitutes, even if he is all weirdly pink, acid burns probably, ouch, that's commitment to wear a full suit over those. "Where's my god damn shoe?"

Deep breath and, ok, there's that knife, he's got this one, he knows the answer, spit it out, Newt. "Memorial," he chokes out, and Hannibal's big old brow furrows a little harder than usual. Sentences. He can do that. "It's on the Memorial at the Shatterdome, dude, I'm sorry, I thought you were dead," and something flashes across the big guy's face before it's back to a forced-looking sneer. 

"Well, then, we're gonna go and get it."

"We?" he says, and that was not a squeak, even if the knife is back and pressing closer than is really goddamn comfortable, ok, lay off, he likes this jacket.

"Yeah, we. You don't have any god damn sense. If I sent you to fetch it you'd be dead on the street before you got three blocks from the Shatterdome," and wow, harsh, but maybe there's some truth in that, look how well shopping's working out for him and he's not carrying a big weird suspicious-looking giant shoe just the moment.

Don't you have people for that, he wants to ask, but for once in his life he manages to shut the hell up although it must show on his face because Hannibal snorts again and growls, "Besides, I need to talk to Hansen, make sure he remembers who's got salvage rights on those corpses by the Breach now that Pentecost's out of the picture."

"Ok," he manages, because clearly his consent really matters, when there's already a big gold limo - a _gold limo_ where do you even get something like that - pulling up next to them and somehow the streets are clear enough for it to get through, no problem. Hannibal shoves him in and he tries to scrap together a tiny bit of dignity but just possibly you could call it scrambling, and ok, maybe "pressing right up against the door" isn't high in the annals of Things To Do If You're Dignified but see how you like getting in an enclosed space with Hannibal "Death Is Just The Beginning" Chau. Hannibal pushes a button and the glass in front of them, like, _morphs_ from black to opaque, and that's pretty sweet, even if he's probably have felt better _not_ knowing that there's three thugs crammed in the front seat, including but not limited to that bald lady who is giving him a scary look, but that might just be her face, and wow, this is his life.

"Shatterdome," Hannibal growls, and then it's back to black again.

"That is seriously so cool," he says before he can stop himself and Hannibal barks out a short laugh.

"I like it," he allows, and hits another button and geez, things are moving, things he is sitting on are moving, not good, and oh geez, he's scrambled right into Hannibal, who elbows him off surprisingly peaceably. "Relax, kid. Drink?" The thing he was sitting on is some kind of crazy mechanical bar, apparently, full of some weird dry ice or something because it's steaming but the bottles are sealed, he notices.

"I could kinda use one," he admits, and Hannibal laugh-barks again, presses Newt back up against the seat with a big flocked-suit-covered arm and snags a couple of cups and one of the bottles. He pours for both of them and sticks the bottle between his big feet - snakeskin shoes - or maybe _kaiju skin_ \- could it be, holy shit, he's got no self-preservation because he leaned right forward to look at them, didn't he, and yep. There's really only one thing that could be.

"Like 'em?" Hannibal flashes his gold teeth. "Had 'em made out of a bit of that little bastard that tried to eat me," and tried, jeez, _succeeded_ and also that is _insane_ but also, let's be honest, pretty fucking cool.

Which Newt is not, right now. He leans back, totally casual, and so what if Hannibal's smirk grew three sizes that day. He takes the cup he's offered, smooth, cool as a cucumber, and okay, fine, it just seems _prudent_ to wait 'till Hannibal takes a swig before he tucks into what proves to be a very smooth shochu. "Good instincts," Hannibal chuckles, "but relax. If I was gonna kill you, wouldn't risk getting you all over my good suit," and that shouldn't be funny, but Newt's laughing, and Hannibal is too, and it's hard to be too terrified of a guy who snort-laughs, so that's ok, then.

When they settle down again, Hannibal kind of quirks his mouth at Newt, says, "Thought you'd all long gone by now."

"Nah, we're sticking around for a while, cleaning up, monitoring the Breach, all that good stuff. Wait, is that classified? Probably, kind of, but not _that_ classified."

Hannibal laughs again, the stops, glares at him. "Monitoring the Breach, you say?"

"Well, yeah, not that there's much to monitor, but it's not exactly the kind of thing where you want to be pretty sure, you know?" Hannibal looks a little... worried? Mad? Anyway, that's not a good face, moving right along.... "Besides, I've got tons of stuff to do, you don't even know, adaptive cloning is some crazy stuff..."

"Cloning?" Hannibal says, slowly, and oh shit, he probably really, really wasn't supposed to say that, but hey, in for a penny, in for a pound.

"Yeah, don't, like, tell people, but the kaiju were all, well, clones, kind of, genetically identical, which is pretty crazy when you look at the range of expression of physical traits, and that's fascinating, if I can figure it out - and I totally will, man, it's nice to have time on your side for this kind of research, you don't even know, I haven't slept this much in _forever_ \- then the medical applications alone..."

Hannibal whistles. "You're sitting on a gold mine," and that's definitely a considering look. Oh, hell, look what he's done.

"We won't be able to clone kaiju," he adds hastily and yeah, Hannibal's definitely squinting at him, measuring, not good, not even a little good. "We'd be decades off that kind of tech, even if anyone was crazy enough to want to try it, it's more like... The mechanism for doing it, if I can map that out, get a good handle on it - think replacement spleens, your own bone marrow on tap, that kind of thing - not that I can do much with that, personally, I'm kinda a one-species-wonder..."

"I feel like a broken record, kid, but _relax._ Too much trouble to kidnap you."

Newt laughs - that's not a giggle, it _isn't_ , and ok, fine, neither is it convincing, exactly. "So what about you?" he says in a rush.

Hannibal shrugs. "If there's no more comin', means what I've got is worth a god damn fortune." He gestures at the cup. "You're drinkin' your thanks right there."

"Salut," he says before thinking about it, and there's that snort-laugh again. "And, hey-o, here's the Shatterdome."

The car stops and he's trying to figure out how to get the bar back in but no, of course not, of course he's got to scramble across the seat and get "helped" out of the car by the bald lady, who totally pinched his elbow on purpose, he just knows it. Hannibal hooks a finger -Jesus Christ, his _pinkie's_ the size of a sausage - into Newt's shirtsleeve and rumbles, "Don't run off, kid," and then of course he laughs when Newt grumbles "the name's Newt, jeez."

"I'm pretendin' it isn't for your own good, what in the hell kind of a name is that?"

"A perfectly good one," and, ok, Newt was not prepared for the rush of relief-swiftly-followed-by-terror that he'd get from hearing Hermann's voice because, wow, good to have backup but now he's got to worry about his lab buddy too. " _Mister_ Chau. If you'd be so good as to unhand Dr. Geiszler, Marshall Hansen will be free to see you in an hour."

"It's a damn good thing that my buddy here's gonna show me around so I won't be left waiting around with my thumb up my ass, then, isn't it," and, ok, a hard arm caging Newt around the shoulders is not an improvement, nosiree.

There's guards, at least, he hadn't noticed them but Hannibal's people sure have and they don't exactly look pleased about it. Yeah, no, not starting a black-market-versus-military war, nope, nope, nope. "It's ok, Hermann," and yay, he sounds pretty normal, that's good. "I promised I'd show Hannibal the Memorial, it's cool."

And there's Tendo Choi, throwing Hannibal a peace sign like the total boss he is. "Go right ahead, Newt. Hannibal, all right if I take your buddies and catch up on the gossip? I'll keep 'em comfortable."

"You'd better," Hannibal mutters, not loud enough to carry over to Tendo. "All right, guys. Be seein' you," he says, levels a hard look at Tendo. Joy of joys, he drops the arm but wraps his big paw around Newt's elbow so, better, yes; good, not so much. "Let's go, kid."

Hermann falls into step with them and Hannibal's clearly trying to outpace him, but god bless Hermann because he's hobbling like a racehorse and he'll totally feel that later and that's just not on. Newt jerks short and ow, Hannibal's squeeze _hurts_ , but he makes himself smile and says, "Where are my manners? Hannibal, this is Dr. Gottlieb," and Hermann nods his thanks for the title, but seriously, he is being a fucking trooper right now, "the other half of the research division and all-around kick-ass science boss."

"Pleasure," Hannibal grunts, releasing Newt's elbow to offer what looks like a bone-crunching handshake. Herman's pissy expression doesn't alter. Stone. Cold. Badass. Sort of like Newt, because he didn't blow it by skittering away because, ok, better him than Hermann for the whole prisoner-of-their-handsy-guest-duty thing. Hannibal gives Hermann a hard look and leans in, clearly staring at his damaged eye, and snorts. Ooh, burn, it's ruffled Hermann's immaculate hair but for once he doesn't fix it right away, just stares Hannibal down which, seriously, he always knew Hermann had it in him. "Can't believe there's two of you crazy motherfuckers."

"We saved the world," Hermann bites out and Hannibal leans back, laughing. Sure enough, Hannibal's hand's back on Newt's elbow but it's gentler, now, and he's smiling wide enough to show off his whole grill.

"Fair enough," he says, gives a little tug and they're walking again. Everyone is totally staring at them and trying to pretend they aren't which, okay, also fair.

"So, uh, I bet you had a big old party at your place?" Newt tries because the silence is sort of freaking him out, to be honest, better to keep it friendly, right, even if he's kind of being half-hauled by Mr. Black Market and Hermann's glaring daggers at the both of them.

"What, me? The guys did a little something but I've been soaking in this gross goddamn neutralizer for the past couple days. Word of advice, don't climb inside one of those things." Newt stares, incredulous, because, really? _Really?_ "Normally it'd go without saying but all evidence suggests you're a crazy sunnavabitch."

He laughs, and the vibrations kind of start Newt laughing, too, even though it's not funny, exactly. Hannibal smiles almost.... fond? "I'm surprised you haven't even asked what it was like in there."

Oh. Wow. Yes. That. "About that..."

"Calm down, crazy," he laughs. "Breathe. I wrote it all down right afterward, figured a little something for the press, you know? But I bet you'd appreciate the finer details. I'll show you sometime."

Okay, yes, dignity, goodbye, but seriously, that is awesome, and better men then he would have succumbed to the need to clap excitedly at that kind of opportunity, seriously, _first person..._

And then Hannibal ruins it by ruffling his hair. " _If_ you're nice."

"Not cool, dude!" Newt cries, patting his back into place as best he can with his free hand.

"What, exactly, does 'nice' entail?" and, okay, Hermann has always been the master of vocalizing the air quote.

"I know it when I see it," Hannibal drawls, and it's Hermann's turn to huff, and this is pretty damn surreal, all round.

Thank god, they're at the Memorial. It's not an easy thing to look at - punches that victory feeling right on out of you, actually. He kind of half-turns his head on instinct and jeez, it's weird, but Hannibal kind of squeezes his arm in this gentle, supportive type way that kind of snaps him out of it because that is seriously weird. Nice, yes, but totally, totally weird.

"It's over this way," he whispers, and Hannibal nods, relinquishes his arm so he can lead. He'd put the shoe kind of toward the right edge, right by the tube of Lt. Kaidanovsky's lipstick and the Cherno Alpha crew's totally badass poster because Russia knows for propaganda. Oh jeez, he'd forgotten, how had he forgotten, well, to be fair, he _has_ been busy being terrified- that right over the shoe he'd gone and tacked up a screencap from one of those Kaiju Remedies ads and scribbled, "RIP, died like a total badass" across the bottom. Hannibal jerks to a stop, looks at it, looks at Newt, and geez those glasses make it hard to read his face. It's kind of a relief when he looks away and palms his shoe and, yeah, it's probably only right to take the poster down too, but he's tucking it inside his vest and that was... not expected. Hannibal kind of stares in silence for a second and then rumbles, "Thanks."

And what can he say but, "well, you did. Or I thought you did. Um, I'm glad you didn't, dude," and Hannibal kind of huffs, like he knows this isn't the sort of place where you laugh, and, like, clutch-pats Newt's shoulder in a comparatively gentle way. Which is long about the time Hermann huffs at them and yeah, that's more than enough of this. "You, uh, want some Jell-o or something? I'd offer you a drink, but all I have left is some maybe-Scotch and I don't want to, like, besmirch your honor or something by offering it."

Hannibal huffs again - seriously, his life is full of huffers, how has he not noticed this- and says, "nah, let's see your lab," and Hermann does this little shuffle dance and shakes his head and generally does everything short of mouthing "N-O" but he's seen Hannibal's workshop and it seems only fair, somehow.

"It's this way," he says, and man, Hermann should sigh for the _Olympics_.

"Been workin' on anything good?" 

"World. Saved," Hermann adds, hilariously. Awesome. It's totally Newt's influence.

Hannibal kind of quirks his mouth. "Milking that one, aren't you. That was what, two days ago, minimum."

"Hey, now," Newt starts but Hannibal snorts at him and yeah maybe not a great idea to make a crack about how crime apparently sleeps after all. "I mean, slacking's totally a strong word. I will not deny that there may have been some sleeping and there definitely may have been some drinking, but come on, I wouldn't just let Otachi go to waste, plus, you know, Baby Otachi, and now that I know it was you who made those jaggedy incisions up the side I forgive you." Newt waves a magnanimous hand. "Circumstances, extenuating, I get it."

Hannibal expels an incredulous laugh, land his big hand on Newt's shoulder again. "You got guts, punk, I'll give you that."

"Come on, don't even lie to me, I know you're curious about kaiju fetal structure, if only because you can probably tell people it'll cure infertility or something," and Hannibal raises a speculative eyebrow. Well, oops.

"You lookin' at Mom for womb structure?" Newt totally wants credit for not saying 'yeah, _your_ mom.' He also doesn't say, 'actually, it's egg sacs' because that would be mean and maybe embarrassing and hey, internal egg sacs are pretty womby, actually, kind a hybrid-type-thing and, well, he hadn't thought about it 'till he saw them, either. "Yeah, and a bunch of other stuff, super interesting, the concentration of the acid is insane and that _tongue,_ " and, ok, tactical error, don't talk about stuff that kind of freaks you out around someone who kinda does fear for a living, not that Newt's _afraid_ , exactly, but cutting up a tongue that had once _tasted_ him is kind of a weird experience? Especially because it's still bioluminescent and sometimes it sort of _twitches,_ which, expected reaction to electrical current _but still._

"I'll be taking a look myself," Hannibal says, kind of grim.

Newt kind of laughs and says, "sure, we can look right now if you want, and your guy's here, she's got more than half of the membrane tanked up but transport is kind of iffy right now so she's just been hanging out here," and Hannibal seems mollified by that, so, bonus.

"Good," is all he says, which, honestly, triggers Newt's babbling instinct.

"Yeah, I mean, we have a contract, we know where the funding came from, we aren't gonna be that guy," and Hannibal gives him a 'relax' sort of look, and he can do that. " _Anyway._ You're gonna want to see this. I'm still looking around, but there's something.... The baby's a totally different pH than the rest of them, which, still working on that," and Hermann gives him this _look_ and oh, right, probably classified. "What? He's got half the membrane, Hermann, and they took most of the stomach lining to begin with, he'll figure that out in like two seconds." Hannibal shakes his head, but Newt's on a roll. "And besides, it's not like they aren't on the team," and Hannibal kind of startles at that, but Newt steamrolls right on, "I mean, Li's been working with us for two days..."

"Wait, Li's here?" Hannibal interrupts, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Yeah, told you, your guy's been here since V-R Day," Newt says, impatient.

Hermann's "Your usual utter lack of precision," kind of overlap's with Hannibal's "Guy? Don't say that where she can hear you."

"Don't you two gang up on me," he grumbles, and, ok, that's creepy, the tandem eyebrow raise is creepy.

"Thank god," Herman mutters, and what? Oh, one of Herc's aides is making a beeline for them.

"Marshall Hansen will see you now," and Newt has done zero things to earn that nasty look. Well, maybe like _half_ a thing. It's not like this was the plan.

"'Bout time," Hannibal gripes, and then of course he thwacks Newt on the shoulder hard enough to make him stumble, but at least he glares at the aide when he snickers. "Be seeing you," he says.

"Great," and that is not really what he meant to say but, you know, diplomacy. Apparently he's got some of that, unlike Hermann Snorts-a-lot over there.

And that's it, except Hannibal stops, abrupt, turns back to him because of course that was too easy. "Almost forgot. The hell were you doing in the slums?"

"Oh, that," Newt says, and shakes himself, takes a second to hit rewind. "I was, uh, looking for some cookies or something."

"Cookies?" And that tone, unnecessary, like that was so weird.

"Yeah, cookies, to give the janitor, because, well..."

Hannibal laughs at him. Again. "Cookies for the janitor," he repeats, and Newt's going to mouth off, he can feel it, but Hannibal kind of grins at him and says, "what's his name?"

"Huh?"

"His name, genius. The janitor," Hannibal articulates, like he's speaking to a slow kindergartner.

"What? Um..."

"I'll take care of it," Hannibal says, whipping out a phone. "Name. Now."

"Oh, um, Zhang Jianguo, I guess, but you don't have to..."

"Stay off the streets. Don't want you stabbed over some cookies, punk," and that's weird, but...

"Thanks, uh..."

"Not 'till I'm done with you," and that's just _ominous._ Hannibal tucks the phone back into his pocket, nods. "Consider it done."

"Great, thanks," he says, but Hannibal's already striding off, aide stumbling to keep up.

"Idiot," Hermann hisses, and thwacks Newt in the shins with his cane. Newt's not gonna disagree with that just right at this very moment.

Annnnnd there's the beginning of what he suspects will be one hell of an adrenaline crash. "I think I need to sit down," he confesses.

Hermann growls, "Idiot," again, but tugs Newt over to a handy bench, so that's all right then.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man, this pairing! Two great tastes that taste great together. I'm already thumping away on Chapter 2. I'd be so up for constructive criticism, especially regarding voices; this is the part where I apologize to the nice people at the 12:30 Saturday screening of Pacific Rim who were seated pretty far from me but still seemed a little disconcerted by my attempts to scribble down Hannibal's dialogue which (shockingly, I know) came out mostly illegible because theaters are dark and my handwriting is... _questionable._ To that end, if anyone has a link to a good transcription of any parts of the film, you'd be my favorite forever.
> 
> ETA: I think I solved my transcription problem! Thanks to all of the awesome people (especially skullopendra!) who had suggestions/offers of help!


	2. SCRAM, Bracelet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Timing: This is set two days after Chapter 1, five days post V-K Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: So, Newt's a scientist and an animal biologist, at that; I think it's safe to say he's used to lab animals, some of which don't make it out alive. Just in case that's bothersome for anybody, there's a throwaway mention of a lab frog meeting a sticky end in this chapter.

"Dude, you've got to see this," and of course that draws an exasperated cough.

"I most certainly do not," Hermann grouches, and there's not even a pause in the scritch-scritch-scritch of chalk. "I may deign to discuss it with you..."

"Right on!"

Hermann holds up a hand. " _If_ you wait until I'm finished here," and he totally ignores Newt's sigh, because, seriously, that math's not going anywhere, " _and_ you clean yourself up and present me with a diagram if that is practicable." Which is totally bogus, except he still feels a tiny bit guilty that Hermann finds it necessary to smear vaseline under his nose _every single day_ , but honestly, it doesn't stink _that_ much in here, and besides, weren't you supposed to get used to that kind of thing? Like how people don't know their houses smell like cat pee. And, ok, fine, he's successfully grossed himself out, so score one for Hermann.

"Fine," he grumbles, and Hermann doesn't even bother to reply, which _sucks_ because he's having a _breakthrough_ here. Fine. He's totally got this anyway. And he's totally using good lab procedures because at least he nabbed a paper towel to cover his hand before throwing the switch, and that's never _not_ going to be cool; score one for scientific accidents because who would've guessed that mild electrical current through the biogel would wake kaiju tissue right on up? Otachibi's (shut up, that's a perfectly good name for the baby, _Hermann_ , he's totally going to get it put in the books) secondary stomach pulses which, gross and awesome, and speaking of awesome, you can actually _see_ the tissue growth, which is crazy, that's quite a healing factor, which is the sort of thing that makes him really grateful that they closed the Breach when they did because, wow, even he doesn't want to see kaiju that won't stay down. Well, mostly. Anyway. He takes a deep breath and, Geronimo, plunges his hand into the healing slit up the side of the secondary stomach. The sensors are going crazy and wow, weird, he can feel all kinds of little tube structures prodding and sucking a little, which is not unexpected but not, like, comfortable, even if it is awesome.

"Ouch!" Speaking of uncomfortable, Hermann had sidled right up when Newt wasn't paying attention and just wrenched Newt's arm out of the tank. " _Careful_ , jeez, that's really delicate! Look, you totally ripped some of the tubes off!"

"You _idiot_ ," Hermann hisses and chivvies him over to the base neutralizer, plunges Newt's arm in by main force. The tube-sensors still clinging to his hand still and drop off and that's _it_. "Those are irreplaceable," Newt hisses.

"So's your _arm_ ," Hermann growls, and he actually sounds worried. "What were you thinking? You weren't, of course. Into the acid bath, Dr. Geiszler, _honestly_."

"That one's pretty high pH. And it's not like I was just gonna leave my hand in there..."

"Of course you were," Hermann interrupts, face all pinched up, and, ok, Newt feels pretty bad for scaring him.

"Not for very long," he says in a calmer tone. "Just long enough to get some readings, which I was prettymuch done with, scout's honor, I was coming right out."

"Imbecile," Hermann mutters, and then _wipes his hand on Newt's shirt._

"That's gonna stain!" he cries.

"Serves you right," and that's Hermann's don't-fuck-with-me tone, so Newt just throws his hands up - Hermann kicks him when that flicks a drop of the base neutralizer on Hermann's shoes - and grabs for the paper towels. "What on earth possessed you to _plunge your hand into an acid bath?_ " and well, when you put it that way...

"I have this theory, see? I thought, no way Hannibal could have survived for very long in full-on kaiju acidity. The pH in Otachibi..." - Newt's just gonna ignore that exasperated sigh, he is totally the bigger man- "is way high compared to every sample we've ever had, and plus when's the last time you saw a kaiju _eat_ somebody? How about never; that's not their M.O. Here's another never for you - a pregnant kaiju? In what way does that make _any sense?_ What, Otachi's just gonna take a break from fighting and rampaging to give birth, even though you could manufacture any kaiju to spec back home? No. So I thought - what if it's not a baby at all? What if it's, like, a storage unit?" Hermann's staring, but it's a good, considering stare, so he ploughs on. "But why would the kaiju want to store a human? Bet it's not, like, idle curiosity. They're highly adaptive. We know that. Maybe they're tired of just.... stomping on things. Maybe they need more data about how we tick, what might kill us, then they're getting from the limited physical contact they've had. Maybe they need more data. Maybe they need _samples._ " Newt gestures at the still-pulsing stomach which, ok, not best practices, better take time to switch the current off. "I'd say I'm on to something."

Hermann sighs and grits his teeth in a way Newt now knows means he's counting to ten, so, hey, Newt can do quiet. For a little bit. "And of course the concept of a controlled experiment..."

"It was controlled!"

"You could have put _any living tissue_ in there, but of course you chose your _own hand_..."

That's.... only kind of fair. "I stuck a frog in there first! You saw me, this morning, with the tongs, right? And, nothing, or at least nothing significant, so I figured, maybe it's coded for humans somehow..."

Hermann just raises his voice and keeps talking as though Newt never started to speak, which, ok, kind of standard operating procedure but _still._ "And you didn't think to inform me before..."

"Ok, I totally told you to come over but you said you were _busy_..."

" _You tell me to come over thirty times a day!_ " Hermann hollers, then visibly reigns himself in. "I would appreciate it, if, in the future, if you would tell me in as many words before you put yourself at physical risk," and that's actually.... really nice.

"Sorry, buddy," he offers, and ignores Hermann's grunt. They are totally buddies, so there. "Will do, ok?"

"Oh, go and clean yourself up," Hermann sighs. "God alone knows what that residue will do to your skin."

Normally he'd laugh at the guy because, seriously, it's not like he doesn't have _extensive experience_ with leftover kaiju-plus-base-neutralizer on his hands, but Newt knows a truce when he hears one and it's honestly kind of good to be worried about? Even if Hermann's worrying usually takes the form of yelling, but the guy has totally been making an effort to be a little more open about the worry part since their Drift, and so being less of a provoking asshole is probably Newt's half of the bargain. "Ok," Newt says, and Hermann growls at him, which makes Newt laugh, so sue him.

And maybe Hermann is a little bit right because honestly, the shower feels pretty good and he's going to be working with the sensor data for the rest of the day, which he might as well do in clean clothes. Well, cleaner. Nobody's gonna see him but Hermann, so it feels like a waste of a clean shirt. Yesterday's pants are not even that dirty, especially since he'll just be wearing them for a few hours.

An insistent rap on his door, and he hollers, "I _showered,_ Hermann, geez, calm down," and the door swing over to reveal a laughing Tendo.

"Got a hot date?" Tendo chortles, which sets Newt off.

"Yeah, right, dude." Tendo shoulders through the door, which, rude. "Also, hello, come right in," he grumbles, tugging his pants on and someone passing in the hallway giggles.

"Special delivery," and the smile slides right off Tendo's face. He hands over what looks to be... a blank piece of paper, but then he whips out a luma light and switches it on. There's a phone number scribbled on the card, and some Chinese chicken scratch. It's really hard to read, honestly, not words that Newt recognizes and he doesn't think it's just the handwriting.

Newt squints at it. "A hot date after all?" he says, and Tendo makes a face.

"You tell me," he says. "This was tucked in with the invoices from Chau's people."

"I guess that bald lady was giving me the eye," he jokes, but Tendo's outright frowning at him, which, he knows that wasn't his funniest moment, but harsh. "Ok, help me out here. What does it say?"

"Something like 'Don't make me regret this, kid,' in the code we use with these guys. The number doesn't match any of the contact info Herc's got on file."

Newt whistles. "He's got a personal number, right? So this is, what?"

"We ran the number with Interpol. There's no records on it - it's a burner phone." Tendo stares him down. "Look like somebody over there's taking an interest."

That's seriously weird, but maybe not that unexpected? Hannibal had basically told him to expect a call or something, and they're mid-salvage so maybe he found something or wants to talk dissection technique because, seriously, Li's pretty competent in a totally pedestrian way but her grasp of anatomy's as shaky as her knifework. Maybe Hannibal's just behind on his daily threatening-people quota? Newt shrugs. "You're sure it's for me?" and, ok, it would be optimal if his voice would just not crack.

"Yeah, _kid._ "

"Shut up," Newt grumbles. Tendo's still looking at him like he might have some kind of explanation which he really definitely doesn't, other than Hannibal said he wasn't done with him which he totally reported, he's pretty sure. He kind of shrugs, and Tendo narrows his eyes.

"I won't lie, it made us wonder what you might have told the guy to get his direct attention like this."

Newt shrugs. "We went through this, I thought? He wanted his shoe back, we talked kaiju, pretty basic stuff, nothing he wouldn't have known from the work his people have been doing over here..."

Tendo sighs, hooks a thumb in his suspenders. "There's two schools of thought on that, you know. Anyway, I don't have to tell you to be careful..."

"Yeah, I kind of got that from all of the threats and knives every time I talk to the guy." Newt wriggles a little bit. What's he supposed to say, anyway?

"Yeah." Tendo sighs, roots around in his pocket. "Well, welcome to your new fashion statement," he says and flips a big, ugly, metal bracelet at Newt. It would be too much to hope he'd catch it smoothly. Instead, he kind of bobbles it around and ends up having to grab it off the floor while Tendo snickers at him.

"Thanks?" Newt peers at the thing. It's like two inches wide, and pretty thick. The edges are a mess, pretty clearly jerry-rigged welding, and if he had to guess he'd say they'd sanded off the cuff of one of the pilot suits.

"Put it on," Tendo orders and, hey, no.

"It's not really my thing..." he starts, but Tendo points at him, and Newt grudgingly stuffs his hand through it. It really screws with the lines on his wrist, and it's ugly as sin - too big, kind of slides around. Plus the inside is this weird sort of greasy-squishy rubber stuff. Yuck. "What..."

"It's GPS, pretty primitive biofeedback - if you take it off, it'll shut off, so don't do that, got it?"

"What..." Newt starts again, but Tendo cuts him off.

"Glove up when you're working - it's waterproof, but acid will wreck it and replacements are coming out of your paycheck. You leave the Shatterdome, you tell somebody in security, ok? Take somebody with you if you can."

Whoa. "That's pretty serious..." Newt starts.

"So is Hannibal Chau. It's kind of a touchy time in our relationship with him, and we don't want you to be an incident." Tendo's still frowning - this is maybe the longest Newt's ever seen him go without cracking a smile outside of the situation room. "You talk to him, you tell somebody about it, preferably one of Herc's people. No visits without clearance."

"Ok. Ok." This is... kind of starting to freak him out a little. "Tendo. Dude. Tell me this isn't another prank to keep me from going on a bar crawl, because..." Tendo shakes his head, so that's... better? Because maybe jerkoff prank is better than big-deal-security problem, and hey, maybe he should cut this off, is that what Tendo's trying to say, but if so why even give him that card with the phone number? He kind of waves the card around. "Do you want me to lose this?" He's not gonna lie, he's kind of reluctant to do that, which makes basically zero sense, but there's something kind of James Bond about this whole thing, and those guys have got, like, way more than half of the good samples from Otachi.

But anyway, not to worry, Tendo shakes his head and says, "Nah, we're trying to keep it friendly, and he seems to like you. Just... be careful. Try not to piss him off."

Newt snorts. "Yeah, my track record with that's been great."

Tendo reaches out to ruffle his hair - will people _stop doing that_ \- and totally ignores Newt's outrage, but at least his hair's still wet so he can get it to lay right without too much trouble. "He likes you," Tendo singsongs.

"If you say so, jerkface," because that's a pretty dubious proposition, but anyway. Newt flops his wrist around. "Isn't this a little conspicuous?"

"That's the idea," Tendo explains, making that creepy I'm-serious face again. "We want him to know that he messes with you, he's messing with the PPDC."

"Cool?" And honestly, it _is_ , even if this seems like total overkill. "Should I be, like, trying to get information from him or something?"

"With your poker face? Not a chance," Tendo snarks, which, not even fair.

"That was _one time_..." And so what if he lost fifty bucks and his coffee rations for a month - good thing Hermann only drinks tea, he would have seriously killed someone - and maybe it was sort of a bold move to drink with pilots before poker night, but it had totally seemed like a good idea at the time and who knew Chuck Hansen was sitting on a flush?

"Just... you do you. And be careful." Which is laughable, so he laughs, and Tendo quirks a smile at him. "Listen, I've gotta run. Leave that on, tell security if you're leaving base, or if you call him."

"Ten-four, good buddy," and Tendo grins at him, which is more like it, and makes his exit without closing the door because he's a giant jerk. It's just as well, because Hermann's lurking conspicuously in the hallway.

"Come in," he offers, and Hermann glares at him, pointedly gives Newt's rumpled trousers a once-over. Screw that.

Newt sighs, because this is clearly just not his day, when was it ever his day, he must not have been paying attention. "What now?"

"Your dataset is ready," Hermann sniffs, and apparently they're not talking about this? Except Hermann's pissed, his mouth's all pinchy and he's already taking off down the hall. Newt scrambles to catch him, and Hermann turns his head to stare the the wall which, seriously, none of this is even kind of his fault.

"So did you hear," he sighs, and Hermann rounds on him.

"That you are apparently keeping contact with that garish thug? Yes." And that's apparently going to be that, because Hermann's pinched his mouth shut and Newt just can't with him right now, ok? The rest of the walk to the lab's a horrible, awkward silence but every time he takes a breath to speak Hermann shoots him this _look_ and will everyone stop acting like this is somehow his fault?

At least his data's ready when they get to the lab, and it's good stuff, easy to lose himself in even if Hermann keeps snapping chalk which he is totally doing on purpose, that's a thing, Newt _knows_ it is. The sensors registered a ton of activity, and for a stomach those readouts sure map like they're brain tissue, or something like it. Closer to brain readouts than anything else, anyway, although there's a ton of interference, but that might just be the healing factor. Which, honestly, moments like these he hates their contract with the scavengers even more than usual, because it would be a lot easier to isolate that effect if he had a few more samples from Otachibi and, huh, there's that little card, burning a hole in his pocket. "I'm going to call Hannibal," he announces to the air, and Hermann breathes angrily but doesn't turn around, just keeps scratching away at his chalkboard. "You want me to put him on speaker?"

He gets no response, which, screw you, Hermann, no speaker for you. He shoots a quick e-mail to the whole security team - screw them, too, they can give him a contact if they don't want the spam - and dials the number, and wow, ok, so he's a little nervous, who wouldn't be nervous, he's basically calling the Godfather. The phone rings once, twice, three times and he's about to chicken out and hang up when, "Make it fast, kid, I'm at dinner."

He laughs a little, nervous, and says, "So listen, do you have any samples of the baby that you haven't neutralized yet?"

"Maybe," Hannibal growls, but he sounds pretty impatient, and maybe Newt should have planned out what he was going to say a little better or something.

"Which totally means yes, if I tell you something you wanna hear," and Hannibal snorts in a totally-laughing-at-him way. "Which I totally am about to do. Get your guys to run a little bit of current through the biogel..."

"And I'm lettin' you cook my kaiju, why?" he gripes.

Ok, the solution here is clearly to talk faster, "Not cook, no cooking, not much electricity, like one milliamp, maybe two, which, if I'm right, will stimulate the tissue," and that's an impatient huff, better seal the deal, "which should activate a healing factor which means more tissue to sell," and Hannibal totally laughs at him when he sucks in a deep breath which, shut up, that was a lot of words at once.

"I'll take your word for it, kid."

"Good," Newt says, "and it would be really awesome if I could see the readings from that, it should only take like ten minutes to see if it works but honestly you might want to let it run for, oh, thirty, forty minutes to get the best yield, but make someone monitor the temperature if you run it that long."

"Breathe, kid, Jesus," and Hannibal is totally definitely laughing at him. "Sounds complex."

"Not really..." but Hannibal cuts him off with a frustrated, sort of growl-esque noise.

"I'm sayin' I don't have time to deal with this right now, but come around tomorrow, we'll see what I can do."

"Awesome!" But oh, wait.... "I mean, uh, I'll have to check it out with somebody here first?"

"They won't let you out on your own any more, huh? Can't say I blame 'em." Which, hey, come _on._ "Text me when you're comin'. Use this number," and yep, he totally just got hung up on.

Hermann is staring angrily at his chalkboard, pissed enough to be muttering away, and, well, Newt feels kind of bad about that. "Hey," Newt says, and surprise surprise, gets no response. "I'm gonna go talk to security, ok? You want anything while I'm out?"

"No," and that was totally kind of a shout, and then he kind of loudly whispers "other than for you to behave sensibly but that is _clearly too much to ask_ ," and, uh, not sure if he was supposed to hear that but so much for the Newt, Don't Be An Asshole program. He shoots Tendo a quick e-mail, asking him to set Hermann up with access to Newt's little SCRAM bracelet if he wants it, which is basically the same as apologizing, right? Right. And if he closes the lab door quietly and doesn't slam it, which Hermann loves to gripe about, that double-counts, so there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed! If there's something you particularly liked, or something you don't think is working, please drop me a line. I'd be thrilled to hear from you!
> 
> I'm especially kind of geeking out over the k-science, which I have plots and plans and schemes for!


	3. Science/suckers!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Timing: This is set the day after Chapter 2 (6 days post V-K day)

Newt's inner ten-year-old is totally flipping out right now. This? This is living the dream. Well, mostly. Maybe in the dream the deeply cool security sergeant driving his car - that's right, a big black armored car just for him, leather seats, the whole nine yards - would kind of keep a lid on the irritated sighs. Whatever. Nothing's gonna rain on this parade. The fact remains that he's in his own _armored car_ , with a lady named Security Sergeant Jezebel Jones - which, seriously, awesome, good naming job, parents of Jezebel Jones, gold star - being driven to a secret black market hideout, the better to access all the sweet science samples he can lay his hands on. Not to mention the ludicrously cool dark red muscle cars that keep unsubtly cropping up at intersections. There's at least three of them. One of them has flames full of kaiju painted on it, which, awesome, even if they're kind of inaccurate. He has an escort. A _gangster science escort._ Can he repeat: _awesome._

Continuing on the "heck yes, Newt Geiszler, rock star" theme, they park the armored car around the back of Hannibal's shop-slash-lair and there are two people with red hatbands and weird gold necklace-type-things that hustle him inside, trying unsuccessfully to jostle Sergeant-Jones-if-you're-nasty out of the way, but she's grimly clinging to his elbow, which lasts all of two steps in the door when the man himself kind of wrenches Newt into his side by main force and rumbles, "Who's your friend" in a distinctly hostile way.

"Security Sergeant Jezebel Jones," he announces, "and yes, that's her real name," and Hannibal snorts a quick laugh before turning a scowl on the poor lady.

"Kuan-Yin, get the lady some tea," Hannibal orders.

Jezebel Jones - that name's too great, you have to say the whole thing every time - narrows her eyes and says, "green, if you have it," which makes Hannibal sort of quirk his mouth.

"C'mon," Hannibal rumbles, and, wait, oh, yeah...

"I forgot my bag in the car," and Hannibal's scowling so Newt rushes on, "come on, it has some equipment in it, which I will totally need unless you're set up for electrolysis, wait, are you?" and Hannibal and Jezebel Jones sigh at the same time and then exchange a startled look, which sets Newt to laughing.

Hannibal makes a tired sort of go-ahead gesture and, what, it's not that big of a deal, it takes like two minutes to hustle back outside and grab his admittedly enormous bag out of the back seat, which probably did not need to be a five-person operation, but hey, what does he know? Then the hat people bundle him back inside again and Hannibal waves a come-on hand and strides off into that big sample showroom Newt's seen before. Somewhere along the way he lost track of Jezebel Jones, which he probably wasn't supposed to do, but oh well, he'll worry about that at some time when he's not standing face to face with five big tanks full of what he's got to assume are pieces of Otachibi, including what looks to be her mostly-intact face.

"Come to papa," and, ok, it's not like he planned to make grabby hands. Hannibal can totally quit laughing at him. He drops to his knees to start setup and there's a hand heavy on his shoulder, holding him in place down on the floor.

"Not so fast, kid. This stuff's worth a mint. Talk me through what you think you're gonna do, here."

He should probably feel weirder about this, but this is all pretty weird, actually, and Hannibal's being pretty nice, so Newt just sort of settles into the floor and angles his head up to more or less look at Hannibal even if it makes him squint because this place has some serious overhead lighting, probably to compensate for Hannibal's dark glasses, now that he thinks of it. Oh, right. Explaining. "OK, so, I'm doing not much, actually? I stumbled into a great, easy process for keeping organ tissue viable. Like I told you, you just run a little bit of current - a couple milliamps, nothing major, you could feel it but it's safe to touch, well, more or less - through the biogel and it'll revive individual organs." Hannibal turns to glare at... Oh, geez, that's Li, who is pretty nice actually, so, "which, why would you guys, normally you're just neutralizing this stuff for processing, I bet. But this - Otachibi's different in a whole bunch of interesting ways, and one of them is that she's got a healing factor, or at least my secondary stomach sample does, which I stumbled on the other day - score one for drunk science," and there's another Hannibal snort-laugh, complete with shoulder-squeeze, "but anyway, I have some theories about what's going on with her, which this will let me test." 

Hannibal nods down at him. "So, uh, can I get up now?" and Hannibal lessens the pressure on his shoulder just enough that Newt can wriggle out from under it, which is sort of a dick move, but whatever, he's got to get in his bag to grab his portable sensor array anyway. It's really easy to set up, and it's less than a minute before he's on his feet and dipping a sensor wand into the closest tank, which - that's her heart, probably. It's as good a starting point as any.

The pH is right, but this is awfully watery biogel. He digs around in his bag, and Hannibal's glaring at him again, so he explains, "I'm going to add a little thickener. It shouldn't change anything, but it makes sense to reproduce my lab conditions if I can." Hannibal makes a go-ahead gesture, so Newt snatches a big stirring rod off a nearby sterilizer and folds the thickener in. There. That's more like it. Now it's a simple matter of inserting the sensor array and the electrical unit, then dispersing the current. There are no surprises, but he keeps a close eye on the readings anyway, and so what if that's partially to help him ignore the way Hannibal's staring steadily at Newt even as he moves around the room to check on his workers' progress? It's a long ten minutes, is what Newt's saying, and what's worse, nothing seems to be happening.

Eventually Hannibal comes to peer over his shoulder into the tank. "Well?" he demands.

Newt shrugs, because he had been really hoping but... "Oh!" And maybe that's it, maybe it's not every part of Otachibi. "Are any of these from inside the body cavity?"

"Last I checked, that's where you find the heart," and Newt makes a face at him, which, fine, not a great idea, because it makes Hannibal sort of _loom_ at him.

"Oh, I meant, I mean - the primary stomach, maybe, or some esophagus? Something you might have come into contact with?" and Hannibal wrinkles his face in a way that Newt is pretty sure means he's glaring but plants a big hand in the small of Newt's back and sort of shoves him at the fourth tank down, and Newt does not stumble, thank you very much, he meant to do that. "Yeah," he breaths, because that looks like part of the esophagus, all right, and unless he's missed his mark there are a bunch of the sensor-tube structures he's seen in the secondary stomach, located toward what would have been the base of the throat.

Newt ducks under Hannibal's arm and grabs his second sensor array from the kit he brought and sure enough, this tank needs thickener, too, but that's easy enough. He grabs for the stirring rod he left in the heart tank. "Oof," he felt that, and oh, right, current's still on and this thing is metal.

"Moron," Hannibal grumbles, which is unfair, but whatever, those tongs over there will totally work as a stirring rod. Once the biogel's set properly, Newt fishes the electrical unit out of the heart tank and hauls it over to the esophagus which, fine, drips on the floor. Hannibal looks pissed, snaps his fingers and some poor guy comes scuttling out from the sidelines with a mop.

"I would've got that eventually," Newt mutters, which gets him a forehead wrinkle, which only deepens when Newt fishes in his pocket for a towelette. Fine, it's not what you'd call best practices, but he's not in his lab, now, is he, and who knows how long Hannibal's patience is going to hold out? He's not going to waste it waiting on a sterilizer, thank you, not when the worst he's dealing with is inert biogel, anyway. Newt rips the towelette opens and wipes down the electrical unit, pulls the tongs out before firing up the electrical unit this time because no matter what Hermann says he can learn, and then switches on the current. "Yes," he mutters, because this time the reaction's pretty near instantaneous once the current's had time to circulate. The sensor-tubes are fluttering, questing, almost, and there's visible regeneration along the incision lines up the throat.

Then there's a hand engulfing his elbow and Hannibal's tugging him toward the balcony. "Hey!" he gripes, and Hannibal sort of growls at him. "I've got to monitor that."

"Get over here, Li," Hannibal barks, and Li hastens over to the tank. Hannibal gives him an expectant look and Newt sighs just to let everyone know he's put-upon because this is a breakthrough, ok?

The pressure on his elbow increases and he knows a warning when he feels one, even if he can't resist one more sigh. Hermann is totally rubbing off on him. "Make sure the sensors stay in the tank, but don't touch them unless you have to," he says, and maybe his tone's a little snotty but that's no reason to crush his elbow, Hannibal, geez. "Keep an eye on the temp, and kill the current if it raises more than 1.8 degrees, which it shouldn't, by the way," and Li nods, which is apparently enough confirmation for Hannibal, who tows Newt out toward the balcony, only relinquishing his arm to open the door. He carefully closes it behind them and reaches up to loose heavy red velvet curtains that hide the door, and them, from sight.

"So," he barks, "regeneration."

"Oh, you're gonna love this, this is _so cool_ ," and Hannibal's face kind of folds like he's trying to scowl and smile all at once. Right. Full sentences. "I have this theory, right? The short version - Otachibi's not a baby at all. She's a storage unit, a sort of portable lab the Precursors..."

"The what?"

Oh, right. "The sort of big boss kaiju? That's what they called themselves anyway, in the Drift," and Hannibal's watching him really closely and whoops, this is really, really classified, but it's too late now and besides he's going to put it in a paper no matter what Herc has to say about it, so oh well. "Anyway, they're the brains behind the big guys we saw here on earth. I think they were trying to gather data on us to speed up the whole kill-all-life-on-earth project, which I'm pretty sure is why you weren't killed right away when Otachibi swallowed you up, which, by the way, gave me the whole idea, so..." Hannibal snorts, but it's not a good snort, so Newt's just going to continue, then. "I've been running tests on the secondary stomach back at my lab, and those tube-sensors seem like they're pulling in a ton of data; I think they're essentially little mini-brains with information gathering capabilities, and I was kind of hoping that other parts of Otachibi would have the healing factor so I could zero it out of my readings, but oh well..." And that kicks off a thought. "Oh! I wonder if that's it - no healing factor in the other organs, I bet they expected the samples to struggle, so the healing factor's just in the..."

"Storage tank," and Hannibal's voice is dripping distaste. Right. This is.... probably a sore subject. But hey, science, right?

"I mean, you'd probably know, right? Is that consistent with what you felt in there?"

And Hannibal sighs like thunder, pushes the sleeve of his jacket up on one side, starts loosening up the cuff his shirt sleeve. "It was... invasive. Like gettin' felt up by spaghetti," and that's an awful mental image, actually, but then Hannibal's pushing up his open sleeve a little bit, and there's, like, _sucker-marks_ on his wrist. Newt steps forward without thinking about it, takes the big guy's hand, turns it over so he can get his face up close to the marks on Hannibal's wrist. Yowch. There are a bunch of circular marks, about the right diameter for the sensor-tubes, and they're not scabbed over or anything but they look a little raw. 

There's hot breath in his hair and, oh, right, maybe he shouldn't be all up in Hannibal's space like this, but he hasn't cuffed him off yet and Newt's more than a little curious about the pattern. It's not regular, no order to it that he can discern, except there's a denser pattern over the Ulnar artery, maybe, and none of the marks look especially deep.

"How'd you keep them off your face?" he asks, running a finger - gently, in case they hurt, which they kind of look like they might, but Hannibal doesn't react so maybe not? Or maybe he's just tough. They're a little rougher than the surrounding skin, maybe, but not much.

"Moved my head around so they couldn't latch on, once I figured out what was happenin'," and this close he can feel the rumble of Hannibal's voice and, right, he should probably step back.

But first, "Do they hurt?" he asks, and Hannibal doesn't say anything which, ok, probably a yes. Newt kind of pats at an unmarked part of Hannibal's wrist, because that really sucks, and buttons his cuff back up for him, which takes two tries, but seriously, these mother-of-pearl buttons are cool but they're also really slippery. And oh, right, personal space; Newt rocks back a step which, lucky him, makes him trip a little over an uneven patch in the floor.

Hannibal snorts at him, smoothes the cuff of his jacket back over the shirtsleeve. "Samples, huh? I knew it," he grouses.

Newt grins at him and says, "Yeah, which, when you think about it, we probably scared them half to death. Think about it - for all they know, all of humanity's got my brains, well, and Hermann's, and your body, and, oh, whatever they got off of Gipsy Danger before she blew," and that seems like a dangerous look, so, "Ok, no, that came out wrong? I'm not saying anything, your brain, just, I haven't seen anything to indicate that the sensors in Otachibi were capable of reading neural activity..."

Hannibal kind of cuffs him, but gently, and says, "relax," which, embarrassingly, draws a cackle from Newt, but Hannibal snorts along with him, so that's all right, then.

Nobody's ever accused him of knowing when to shut up, and hey, it's worth a try, so he asks, "So can I see those notes about your time inside..."

Hannibal quirks a half-smile at him. "Sure, kid," he starts, but wrinkles his forehead, checks his watch. "Not today, though, got a buyer coming in for Otachi's wings."

And, fine, maybe that was sort of a squeak that Newt made, which, sue him. It's a double disappointment, is all, because he's not getting any notes and he'd kind of hoped to check out Otachi's wings because there's got to be one hell of a muscle setup to get that much mass in the air and she'd made it look _easy._

Hannibal's kind of smiling at him again. "I'll let you see the wing scans, too, next time you come 'round," he offers, which, excellent. Newt puts his hand up for a high five, which earns him a huff from Hannibal but he doesn't leave Newt hanging so, victory. "Now, get out of here," he grumbles, pushing back the curtains and planting an outsized hand square on the small of Newt's back to nudge him back into the workshop.

"So, about the sensor readings..." he starts, and Hannibal shakes his head.

"You can pick 'em up next time you're here."

That's not so great, actually. "Can't you just e-mail them..."

"'S not secure," Hannibal demurs.

Which, hello, "Come on, dude, I work for the military..." Newt starts, but Hannibal gives him a speaking look. Well, ok, then, that's... kind of alarming, actually, but anyway, this is gonna hold his experiments back. "When can I..."

Hannibal jostles into him in a friendly way. "Calm down, little fella. I'm tellin' you your data will be here next time you are," and Newt sighs because that _sucks_ but it's not like he's got much choice.

Hannibal nods at one of the hat-band guys, who peels off into a side room, and keeps steering Newt out of the workshop without even letting him look at the esophagus again, kind of sliding his hand from Newt's back to catch him around the waist when Newt tries to peel off, in fact, which, harsh. But Li's there, at least, and, "Oh, about that," Newt says. "I haven't tested the limits of the regeneration on my sample, but if I had to predict I'd say it won't work indefinitely. I'd say you can probably expect to keep the samples viable for, oh, an hour, maybe an hour and a half of total time with the current running. You might want to up the number of incisions to increase the surface area for regeneration, probably keep the pieces apart so they generate new growth instead of just knitting back together, and keep an eye on the temp or else you'll have a kaiju cookout."

"Sure thing, kid," and Hannibal kind of squeezes his side which makes Newt squirm because it tickles a little bit. "Thanks."

"Sure," Newt says, "and maybe you can let me see the data from that, too, that would be really awesome..."

"You got it, kid, calm down," and that sounds more or less like an affirmative, which might be as good as he's gonna get, and anyway they're at the back entrance again. So is a pissed-looking Jezebel Jones. 

"Hi?" Newt tries, but she doesn't answer him, just glares up over Newt's shoulder at Hannibal, who doesn't say anything.

Well, this is sufficiently awful. He kind of pulls away from Hannibal, who looks down his nose at Newt. "So, see you later?" and it seems like he ought to do something, for some reason, but shaking hands is not his style and it doesn't seem like Hannibal's either. So he tries Hannibal's friendly cuff on for size, even if it kind of throws him off balance a little to reach up to Hannibal's shoulder from this angle.

Hannibal kind of dimples at him, cuffs him gently upside the head. "Dude!" Newt gripes, and Hannibal snorts.

"See you around, kid," and he nods, heads back to the workshop. The hat-band guys kind of crowd them out the door and into the car. Jezebel Jones gives him a nasty look as she starts the car up, which, ok, unfair. Except... "Do we get to debrief now?" Which is honestly pretty excellent, very James Bond, and he so can follow security protocols, just watch him.

Jezebel Jones sighs and pulls out onto the road. "I guess we do," she says.

"Awesome," and it is, pay no attention to Jezebel Jones' sigh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is immensely fun! I've been really enjoying the chance to chew over what's working and what isn't with the folks reading along at home; please feel very free to drop me a line if you have any thoughts! In particular, I'm working hard to keep the k-science believable and the voices on point, so if you have any feelings on the matter, I'd love to hear from you. 
> 
> Also, I've been having so much fun with the research for this piece. Academic articles on crime trends in Hong Kong, plus profiles of folks who smuggle endangered animals, what what! There's more to come, hopefully quickly, and I'm having just a blast working on this.


	4. Strike a pose?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Timing: This is set the day after Chapter 3 (7 days post V-K day)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to add a quick heads-up; Vanessa comes up for the first time in this chapter, and Newt doesn't have many charitable thoughts about her just now. However, he doesn't have the whole story (Hermann gives off mixed signals on the matter because he doesn't always have the resources to have emotional conversations, and ends up steeling himself for chats with Vanessa and sometimes avoiding talking about her with Newt). Anyway, Newt will learn more about what's up with Hermann and Vanessa as we go, but I didn't want to give off the impression that this story will have a character takedown of Vanessa. Quite the opposite, I hope!

There's an alternate timeline where Newt is a jerk, and he reacts to horrific blaring of the alarm that Hermann's set up and think's he's hidden in his chalk tray - but come on, seriously, Newt spotted that in like a _second_ \- by reprograming the thing to make sex noises or play "Bombs Over Baghdad" or something because Hermann would probably spontaneously combust, and maybe he'd have an argument where Hermann would grimly ignore him and he'd say " _Can't we set this alarm to something that won't wake the dead? Because seriously this room is full of things that are dead, and you've been pretty clear that you don't want them woken,_ " and Hermann would ignore him and so Newt would make a talky-hand and fill in for him, something really embarrassing and probably in falsetto. But he's not a jerk, or at least he's trying harder not to be, and Hermann's been super-jumpy all day and hasn't been nearly as awful as he could have been, considering, and so Newt, who is totally a good friend, just peels off his gloves and even scrubs himself up a bit, and just meekly falls into step when Hermann's got himself situated enough to leave the lab.

Because seriously, "It was sort of nice of you to set this up for two in the afternoon. I told you that, right?"

"Almost every day," Hermann gripes, scowling but it's not, like, a defcon scowl. "To which I invariably respond that it was a purely pragmatic decision because this is the time of day when you are most likely to be both awake and actually in the your workspace."

"Yeah, well, still, thanks," Newt mutters, and Hermann sighs in a very put-upon way before unlatching the door to the weird little spare room they've converted into a makeshift neural scanning facility. Mako and Raleigh are already there. Seriously, Hermann owes Mako one, because it's kind of a process to get her foundation off and the alcohol wipes that sterilize the forehead aren't exactly easy on the complexion, especially on a daily basis, but hey, we all suffer for science, right? It's not every day you have four nonstandard Drift subjects (well, five, but nobody's asking Herc) and the time to monitor them for long-term effects, anyway, even if this is really super horrible.

He kind of wants a gold star because he doesn't wriggle when Hermann slathers his forehead with gel without even trying to warm it up and affixes the sensors. "You're next, Ranger Mori," Hermann says, and he's almost nice about it, a little extra emphasis on that title, probably because Mako's positioned herself on her stool already and therefore doesn't have to stoop so Hermann can reach. Even sitting down, Raleigh has to slouch for easy access which, as usual, elicits some irritated muttering from Hermann as he gets the alignment right. The easy way Hermann prepares his own setup is good evidence that the guy ought to stop griping about Newt's propensity to experiment on himself because, honestly, there's not a sensor array in the Shatterdome that Hermann didn't calibrate using his own head before handing it off to LOCCENT.

Speaking of which, Tendo's late, and it's really just awkward to sit here next to everybody just staring straight forward in silence, ok? "So, um, what have you guys been up to today?" he tries and shut up, Hermann, basic human courtesy is not babbling.

"Uh," says Raleigh uncertainly, kind of looking at Hermann, and isn't that interesting? He's totally getting to the bottom of this, but not right now, because Tendo comes bursting through the door, kicking it shut in a flustered but still somehow cool sort of way, which, seriously, how does he pull that off?

"I'm here," Tendo announces, and Hermann growls and glances pointedly at his watch and, oof, good job, Newt, because he definitely yanked the rightmost sensor out of place when he was turning his head to check on that. He tries to pat it back into place without anyone noticing but that heavy Hermann sigh says this operation was not so much a success.

"Two minutes to spare. Well, one and change," Tendo pacifies, and Hermann grumbles but there's the rustling sound that says he's settling on his stool and seriously it's really hard to sit still when he can kind of see Tendo in his peripheral vision doing a final check on all of the scanning units but hey, willpower. "Sorry. It's kind of a busy day up front," he soothes, because Tendo's a nice guy and humors Hermann even though he doesn't deserve it.

Everything checks out because Tendo's picking his way through the tangle of cables feeding into the console at the front of the room, which was smart placement because it gives Newt somewhere to focus his eyes. "All right, everybody, in five, four, three, two, one," Tendo directs and then they all burst into the unison count Hermann determined is the best control pattern for brain activity even if English is the first language for one of the four subjects and wait, Newt, focus on the numbers you're saying out loud.

"Six, seven, eight, nine, ten..." And this is always the hard part because he wants to reach out, grab Hermann's hand because the scan is thorough enough to remind his brain that it wants a friend. "Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen..." It's a horrible, lonely, itchy feeling, and is it worse for Raleigh, he always wonders, he's missing two... And crap, focus, he's probably screwing up the results but it's never quiet in his head and it's never going to be. "Twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty." There. Done.

Hermann's up in a second, scrambling up to the control station to check that the data came through properly because he's a terrible backseat driver that way.

"Cheers, everyone," he pronounces, sourly because _Hermann,_ and Newt paws free of the sensors and kind of scrambles to corner Raleigh by the paper towels. "So, you're scheming with my main man?" and Raleigh gives him this kind of pained, confused smile which is honestly kind of his default face. "Come on, dude, you said..."

And how is the hell did Hermann sneak up on him like that? He did not just yelp, ok, maybe he did because Raleigh is kind of laughing at him. "I have spoken to Ral- er, Ranger Beckett today, yes," and Herman's face is twisted up tight which, what, Newt was honestly not expecting that this was a Thing but it clearly is. "I had meant to wait until I had received confirmation, but..."

And then there's a great deal of shuffling as Raleigh and Mako make an Irish exit. Tendo's not far behind, though he does pause to lay a friendly hand on Newt's shoulder on the way out and to shake Hermann's hand which, honestly, they've known each other for more than a _decade_. The door clangs shut behind Tendo and Hermann shuffles back over to the control station, stubbornly eyeing the data he's told Newt he doesn't intend to analyze until they've racked up a month's worth of readings, especially when he's still scrambling to make sense of the readings they've got from the Anteverse.

Fine. So that's pretty clearly Hermann-speak for "this is a big deal, I need a few minutes to assert Spock-like control over my emotional state," and Newt can totally wait him out. He can. Even if he feels dumb just standing here in a half-dark room, fidgeting and looking at nothing in particular but especially not Hermann because that might psych him out and...

"I have spoken to Vanessa," and that was _not_ what Newt was expecting.

"How is she?" Newt asks, cautious, verrrry cautious because this is always kind of a sore subject and you'd think maybe it would be better now that they've closed the Breach but it's pretty clearly _not._

"Fine, fine," Hermann mumbles, staring stubbornly at the control screen. "I have asked her... What I mean to say is... Can you clear your schedule tomorrow afternoon? Between two-thirty and four, they tell me, but I rather expect it will run over. These things always do." And that's an awful mix of resigned and angry.

"Sure thing, buddy, you name it, you got it," and Hermann huffs but doesn't seem inclined to further speech, so, "Um, I'm clearing my afternoon for what, exactly?"

"For _Vogue._ " Hermann pronounces the word like it's a curse.

"Like, the magazine?" and Hermann makes an annoyed sound but, seriously, what?

"Yes, the magazine. Rangers Mori and Beckett have graciously agreed to be photographed on the condition that at least one image of you runs with the article."

"Ok?" Newt tries, and Hermann's clearly not going to help him out here. "Not that I'm not coverguy material, but why..."

"It occurred to me that it would be more difficult for you to... _disappear_ if you were a public figure," Hermann grinds out and, ok, Newt's breaching minimum safe distance because this is weird and alarming and besides, he knows Hermann feels raw after these scans, too, which is probably why he allows Newt to crowd in next to him at the console.

"Disappear?" he asks and wow, that's some serious body language, he can feel Hermann lock up next to him, which he will totally feel later. Newt kind of leans, cautiously, just a little bit of pressure along Hermann's side and the poor guy relaxes a little bit.

Hermann reaches forward, changes the readout on the screen. "Yes, disappear," and he's locked up tight again, staring at the screen like he could explode it with his mind. "As you will clearly insist on continued association with that, that _gangster_..."

And hey, "Supervised," and that's clearly not the right thing to say because Hermann half-turns away. "And monitored," and Newt reaches out, flicks the metal cuff on his wrist, "by the security team and, oh, I told Tendo to give you access to the GPS feed from this thing, he set that up, right?"

"Yes, well, you'll forgive me for finding that less than completely comforting. The fact that such precautions are necessary underlines the fact that you are taking _foolish risks,_ " and ok, Hermann's working up to a shout. Not good. In no way is this good.

"Hey," he tries, but Hermann's turned away, fussing with the connector cables. "Hey. I'm being really careful, I promise, and I don't think.... Tendo kind of told me that they're trying to keep good relations with Hannibal," and Hermann hisses a sharp breath through his teeth, "which I am playing a big part in, but I swear to God I'm being careful and minding the security guys, ok?" No response, which... Oh, hey! "You know they picked Hannibal out in the first place because he's more of a smuggler than a murder-and-mayhem kind of guy, right? He wasn't the only game in town, not back then. There's a reason Pentecost went to him."

Hermann's still turned away, but his back's not quite such a rigid line, and it's totally worth the risk to lay a hand on his shoulder. "I'll give you the file we have on him, ok? You'll see. And I'll let you know everything that goes on, which, let's be honest, I already kind of do..." Hermann sighs, but it's a Yes-Newt-You-Never-Shut-Up sigh, so, progress?

They just kind of stand there for a while, Hermann flicking through data, Newt leaning right up next to him and waiting for the empty feeling to subside to background levels. After a while, he ventures, "So, Vanessa?"

Hermann waves an irritable hand, brings it in to pinch at the bridge of his nose. "I have things to finish up here," and fine, but Newt pats his shoulder lightly in an I'm-here-for-you-buddy way, which elicits a sigh that is just barely on the friendly side of the Hermann Gottlieb Scale of Resigned Noises. That's a pretty clear hint, so Newt peels himself away and slips out the door, which he totally does not slam.

This really sucks. He knew Hermann was freaked out, but enough to ply fashion-related favors out of Vanessa? Who, seriously, Newt hates her an awful lot for a lady that he's never met, but she's always laying the guilt trip on Hermann, that much Newt could't help but pick up on, like Hermann was out here for shits and giggles or something, and there's a lot there that he doesn't understand but the way Hermann steels himself whenever her ringtone disrupts their lab says a whole hell of a lot. Hermann's not really a talk-it-out kind of guy, which Newt gets, but times like these... It's kind of his business, actually, especially now that they've shared brain waves, but Hermann doesn't exactly see it that way, and, well, maybe someday?

Anyway. There's a weird e-mail from some dude named Pierre waiting for him back at the lab, asking for his measurements. Which, what? That seems like the kind of thing you need help with. Hermann's clearly out of the question, and he'd bet money that Raleigh and Mako are still riding out the after-effects of the scan, plus he's got a resolution to stop asking Mako for help with stuff like this, even if it is mostly because she's way nicer than anybody else around here, he gets that it doesn't look good. So, Tendo? Which gives him an idea, actually.... But first he's got some promises to keep. Where had he left that file? Ok, there, sort of crammed under the keyboard. He'll just leave it on Hermann's chair. He scrawls out "Thanks, buddy," on a post-it note which honestly feels kind of inadequate but, well, there it is.

It doesn't take to long to march up to the control room. Tendo looks like he's kind of in a lull moment and waves Newt over. "What's up, my man?" he asks.

Newt grins at him. "I was thinking. You want in on this _Vogue_ thing?"

Tendo quirks out a smile and says, "Don't think i'm invited."

"Well, this is me, inviting you. I just think... Maybe we could ask them about getting a couple of other people in there, too? One of the mechanics, maybe? Something like that."

"I'm not sure they'll be up for that," Tendo says, but he looks speculative.

This is the perfect excuse to snap one of Tendo's suspenders which is always fun because he gets all riled up and giggly both. "Come on, dude, you're styling, who could turn you down?" Tendo laughs and Newt grins back at him. "Besides, it's only right. If we're gonna do press stuff, I think... We did this together, you know? People ought to know about it. It's not all Rangers."

"Tell that to the Rangers," Tendo grouses, but in a friendly way. "I see what you're saying, but..."

'Well, they aren't gonna do it if we don't even ask," and Tendo shrugs in a why-not kind of way. "But they want measurements, so..."

"Is this your way of asking me to look at your inseam?"

Newt snorts. "Yeah, that's my secret plan," and Tendo kind of cracks up.

"Well, my man, you're doomed to disappointment because this is a high-tech operation. I'll fire up the scanners," and Newt makes a tragedy face which totally draws another laugh from Tendo. It's a pretty quick trip down to the ops lab, and the scanner tube is sort of freaky but he only has to go in there for a couple of minutes. He doesn't have a thing about enclosed spaces, usually, but it's kind of making him jumpy right now for some reason. Which, ok, let's be honest, it's probably either flashbacks to the public kaiju shelter or some weird neural hangover from Hermann and neither one is exactly comforting, but the tube's already opening back up, so, great.

Tendo slaps his shoulder with a friendly hand. "Just hit the green button," and then he's in the tube. Bam. They totally live in the future - it's like a two-minute process and there's accurate body scans to send to Pierre which is probably more than the guy bargained for, but hey.

"Let's go check 'em," and they troop back to LOCCENT. Tendo knows every single person they pass which, hey, not a surprise, but Newt kind of figured that maybe figuring out how to nuke the Breach would get a few more people to say hi to him in the hallways?

Anyway. At least the scans came out, because he would have, but he'd definitely rather not hop back in that again right now. Tendo taps a stylus against his screen thoughtfully. "I'm thinking maybe Wang Yan. You know, from the Crimson Typhoon crew, with the hair?"

"Yeah, she's awesome." And a total badass, plus her crazy half-buzz-cut will totally photograph well.

Tendo hums and starts tapping out the e-mail, pauses. "Your phone on you?"

"Yeah?" Come to think of it, it's buzzing a little.

"You've got incoming," and Tendo's making grim-face so Newt's not exactly surprised when it turns out he's got a text from Hannibal.

_Data's ready, kid. And I want you to consult on something._

Newt hands his phone over to Tendo who frowns down it, says, "You better answer, I guess."

Which, yeah, he kind of figured, and he has this terrible impulse to sit on the text for five minutes because he's not on call, Hannibal, but, data, and who is he trying to kid? _Can't come tomorrow. I've got a photoshoot,_ he types and he's barely hit send before his phone buzzes again.

_The hell do you mean, a photoshoot_

_Yeah, dude, for Vogue,_ he sends, and Tendo's making grabby hands so Newt hands the phone over and Tendo cracks up as he reads the texts.

Then the phone's ringing and Tendo hands it over, still chuckling. Fine, fine, he's totally on-call for Hannibal Chau, apparently, because he picks up on the second ring. "You fuckin' with me?" Hannibal growls.

And Newt cracks up but manages, "Nah, dude, I'm totally serious, _Vogue_ is coming here to photograph me because I don't know if you've heard but I'm kind of a big deal." Hannibal snorts and Tendo's cackling into his sleeve and, well, "And they're doing Raleigh and Mako too, I guess."

"Sounds more like it," which is so unfair. "Anyway, the hell does it matter what you're doing tomorrow? Get over here."

Tendo's giving him the eye so Newt frowns into the phone. "Dude, we have, like, procedures, I can't just hop in a taxi..."

A growl. "Figure it out. I have a piece of esophagus going nuts and giving off electrical impulses over here, which wasn't exactly in your instructions, genius." Which... Oh, wow.

"That's awesome!" Newt enthuses, but Hannibal steamrolls right over him.

"It's clearly adaptive, think it's reacting to the sensors. You wanna see this. 'Course, if you're too busy, we've got it handled, but..."

"No, totally, thanks for calling! I'll work it out! Um, gimme a sec?" and there's a heavy breath on the phone. Newt makes a frantic gesture at Tendo and says, "How fast can we get me an escort? Seriously, Tendo..." and there's a click in his ear. Hung up on again, which is going to get old fast.

"Calm down," Tendo says, kind of frown-laughing in a pretty alarming way. "I'll call somebody, ok? JJ's tied up with Herc but I'm sure I can scare somebody up."

"Awesome!" But, wait, Hermann... Yeah, he could e-mail but that would be kind of a dick move. "So, um..."

"Run to the lab and grab your stuff," and Tendo is totally the best. "I'll have somebody meet you at the front entrance, ok?"

"You are so the best," and on-the-spot adaptations, this is _wild,_ there's been nothing even remotely like that in the specimens he's seen before, plus if it's reacting to the electrical unit - obviously it's not even limited to organic input...

It's hard to walk and text but he manages to tap out, _I'm coming, thx_ , even if he does sort of wander into somebody in the hall while he's doing it. It's a mark of how cool this is that he's not even annoyed when Hannibal texts back, _I figured._ Yeah, fine, he's on-call. But he gets called, so that's something, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK! Here's hoping this wasn't a bridge too far for anyone. I thought it was really a logical extension of Hermann's ties to the fashion community through his wife, but please tell me if that's just not working?
> 
> Also, I just want to take a moment and say that I can't thank everyone enough. This story's been getting such a warm reception, which makes it even more fun to write. I'm pretty sure the guys at my hookah bar (which is where I do most of my writing) think that I've moved in. This is just a kick and a half to write and think about, but I've been really, really enjoying the back and fourth with folks who are reading. It really helps me tighten up what ends up on the page, and makes it exponentially more fun to plug away! Thanks so much, everybody, and I do hope you'll tell me what you think!
> 
> PS: I also hope nobody minds the relatively low Hannibal quotient this chapter. I'm sure it's apparent that he'll be more prominent in the next one, plus I think part of the build here is showing Newt's world and headspace whether or not he's in the direct presence of the big guy. I hope it's already apparent that Newt and Hannibal are getting pretty intertwined pretty quickly. So thanks for sticking with me! I'm hoping the Shatterdome stuff is just as fun to read. :D
> 
> PPS: I'm sorry if this came up on the tags as updated! n_r very kindly pointed out that I'd been misspelling Stacker's last name and this could clearly not be allowed to stand! I'm afraid that's the only change just now but I'm work away on Chapter 5 (from the steps of the big library at Harvard! Which would make Newt super pissy but MIT's campus is way uglier and I needed somewhere nice to kill a couple of hours before I hightail it back to NYC). ANYWAY. Thanks, n_r and thanks everybody for the continuing kind reception!


	5. Ransoming Red Chief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Timing: This is set the evening of the same day as Chapter 4 (7 days post V-K Day)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: (These are spoilery for this chapter, so if you don't need/want warnings, I'd give these a miss!) In this chapter, Newt pulls a fool stunt in Hannibal's lab. Hannibal reacts with angry worry, and throws Newt around a little bit in what turns out to be the service of first aid, up to and including hauling out the scary balisong to spear stray kaiju bits affixed to Newt's arm. Hannibal's a big scary guy who Newt doesn't know all that well yet; therefore, Newt's pretty scared while all of this goes down. To be clear, Hannibal does throw Newt around, though Newt is not really injured, and generally behaves in a very intimidating manner. If that's something likely to bother you, but you'd like to keep reading along, please stop reading when Newt sticks his hand in the sample tank. If you want to skip the throwing-around parts but are ok with growly aftermath, please control-F for "Newt squares his shoulders." I feel like the level of violence doesn't warrant the archive tag for "graphic descriptions of violence," but please let me know if you disagree!
> 
> PS: Big thanks to beckyh2112 for letting me know that the warning I first put up was not accurately capturing the chapter content! I really really appreciate the help!

The hat-guys at Hannibal's workshop/lair are a little pissed because he'd run right into one of them on his way in but he's _excited,_ ok, and there was no way to know that guy would block the door for so long, and who knows how long a spontaneous reaction will hold out, especially if, as he suspects, Hannibal's people have been keeping the samples in electrical juice longer than Newt had recommended? In fact, everyone's a little pissed, which is kind of unreasonable, and he gets that it sucks for the security guy, who, come to think of it, had probably been pulled on duty unexpectedly to supervise this trip but wet science doesn't wait on shift changes, it's not that difficult a concept, and he'll make up for it, he'll send the guy some chocolate - no, he's kind of tough and mean looking, maybe beer, unless he's secretly on the wagon, too, ugh, how is he supposed to keep track of these things? "Are you an alcoholic?" he asks, without really meaning to, and the security guy -ok, he should have asked his name, but he'd been busy during the car ride over firing off texts to Hannibal, which would have been more productive if the guy _answered_ \- looks really offended.

"No! What..." he barks out, and Newt cries, "then e-mail me your favorite kind of beer, dude," over his shoulder and rushes through the corridor toward Hannibal's workroom, which kind of comes to an abrupt halt when he clotheslines into Hannibal, who lets out a woof like Newt knocked some of the breath out of him.

"Hey," Hannibal says, and he also sounds kind of pissed, and he's physically blocking Newt's forward progress, which, _come on._

"Yeah, hi," he manages. "So, spontaneous electric discharge?" And he tries to hop up to catch a view of the sample tanks but Hannibal's really bulky and Newt's bag of equipment is really killing his vertical leap, so he tries to lean under Hannibal's arm, and gets snatched for his troubles, big hands around both of Newt's biceps.

"Jesus Christ," but Hannibal sounds like he's laughing now, so that's better? "Most of 'em have gone dead by now," and Newt can't help the pained whine that escapes him which makes Hannibal's whole body rumble with laughter. "Breathe, you little punk."

"Ok," he agrees and tries to wriggle out of Hannibal's hold but he's having none of it. Newt grudgingly stills and Hannibal gives his arms a final squeeze, then manhandles Newt toward the tanks, still holding one of his arms and generally forcing him to approach at a fucking _crawl._ "Take it down a notch," he orders, "can't have you runnin' around knocking my tanks down," which is kind of legit, maybe, but he wouldn't do that. Well, on purpose. These floors are slippery and his dress shoes don't really have tread to speak of and yay, sample tanks. The setup is pretty impressive. The esophagus has been hacked into squares, probably four inches apiece, each one resting in a separate sample tank, and some of them are showing really fascinating distortion, probably the healing factor at work... Ok, fine, maybe some caution's in order because the floor's half-covered in wiring. An eternal curse on Hong Kong traffic because most of the samples are in fact quiescent but there's two or three that are throwing off more bioluminescence than the rest and at least one that's kicking up some pretty violent movement. He makes a beeline for that one, kind of towing Hannibal along, and there's a decent setup plugged into the tank, reading mass, temp, current, activity... He can work with this.

"I need that arm, dude," he mumbles, and Hannibal releases it, but steps between him and the sample tanks but whatever, he needs to glove up anyway. It doesn't take long to weasel his gloves out of the bag he brought and and onto his hands and he makes himself pause, breathe, before edging past Hannibal to the monitor displaying reading from the live-wire sample. Oh man. Hannibal wasn't kidding about the electrical feedback. There's 1.7 milliamps going in, 4.3 reading back. He whistles. "How long?" he asks, but he's already tapping at the monitor, which doesn't like to respond to glove-covered-finger apparently, he should have thought this through, and he's _trying_ to get a historical read to show up, but the programming's unfamiliar and he's blanked out the screen somehow and Newt is seriously going to _scream._ A tech materializes at his side, gives Newt a disgusted look, starts fussing with the monitor. "I need access to historical readings from this bad boy, from the past hour at least," he orders, and the tech looks at Hannibal, who shrugs, and then starts tapping away again. "Who's been working on this?" he asks, and Hannibal makes a curt gesture. Five or six techs, a couple that he recognizes, even, step forward. "When did this start? Wait, how long have you been running current... In fact, no, I just need your lab notebooks." Nobody's moving, why is _nobody moving._ "Hello?" he snaps.

Hannibal snorts and barks out something in Cantonese - fuck, fuck, of course, why hadn't he learned Cantonese a little better, but honestly, he'd been shipped around to so many Shatterdomes, who knew what languages it was even worth bothering with and it's not like he'd had any _time_... And there's a general scramble, but the notebooks are also all in hanzi, which, of course, this is his life.

Hannibal's raising both eyebrows at him and Newt takes a deep breath, pastes on a smile. "So, I can't read these," he starts, "and I kind of really need to."

And then there's Li, looking kind of alarmed. "Let me summarize," she offers, and Newt makes a go-on kind of gesture. "We separated the samples shortly after your departure. It took us approximately eight hours to construct the tanks and electrical apparatus, and another two to set up the sensor arrays. After that, we..." She makes a frustrated gesture. "The electrical current, we turned it on," and he gives a reassuring nod. "Some of the samples were inert. Those from between the upper esophageal sphincter and the lower were largely inert. The others reacted to the current, particularly where the... tubes, you call them, the...?" She makes a wiggly gesture with her fingers and Newt nods again, sensor-tubes, got it, "Where the tubes were present. Strongest reaction centered near the throat and entry to the stomach."

"Great, thanks," Newt says, and his smile is genuine now because this is actually, finally _useful._ "So how long..."

Li squints at a monitor near her elbow, maybe looking for the time? "Approximately 12 hours, with a one-hour break after every 120 minutes to allow the biogel to cool."

"That long?" Because that's.... really really not what he would have predicted.

Li gives a half-shrug. "The majority of the specimens stopped reacting between one and three hours after exposure to electricity," and Newt nods along, because that's more like it. "The others.... after nine hours, they began to..." She points at a couple of the tanks, some of which have serious outgrowth. "Some moved, almost enough to escape the tanks. Others..." She gestures at the live-wire sample he'd first been drawn to. "Six samples in all produced electrical feedback. Three of those for moments only. The other three..." She points. "This one, it stopped reacting ten minutes before your arrival. This one, it is still producing, but it is weak. This one," and she points at the live-wire, "has been growing stronger."

"And this is all of the growth you saw?" He gestures at the sample tanks, because honestly he would have suspected more, way more, but Li's shaking her head.

"No. We have neutralized many of the inert samples to prepare them for sale," and, yes, fine, he almost forgot this place is 'applied science.' Still, this is a whole lot better than nothing.

"And these are from...?" he asks, pointing at the two samples that are still live.

"The lower esophagus, very near the entrance to the stomach," and ok, that adds up, that makes sense.

He turns pleading eyes on Hannibal. "I _need_ this data, it's a need, come on, dude..."

And Hannibal laughs, slaps a hand down on his shoulder. "Relax, kid, you think I hauled you out here for fun and games?" Newt beams at him and Hannibal kind of smiles back for a minute before raising an eyebrow. "Course, we haven't discussed what's in it for me."

"Right, yes," and how had he forgot about that, he could have at least asked Tendo if he was authorized to offer... But, well, _science,_ he hadn't exactly been thinking about this side of things when he came running out of the Shatterdome. "Let me call my guys, I'm sure we can work something out, your time is valuable and, wait, what do you want, exactly, like how much...?"

Hannibal snorts at him, openly amused. "Don't go into business, kid," he rumbles, gives Newt's shoulder a fond squeeze. "Christ, that's your idea of negotiation? Besides, you guys don't have the kind of cash I'd ask for access like this," and Newt _whines_ again which draws an outright laugh from Hannibal. "Relax, Jesus, kid, told you I didn't bring you over here for nothing. Right now I could use your brains more than the money - we've got a shit-ton of kaiju needs processing around here, and none of it's gettin' any fresher."

That kind of makes sense, but, "Wait, what? What are you...?"

"Stop lookin' at me like that," Hannibal snorts. "Just want you workin' for me for the next couple three days."

That's.... That's awesome, actually, unlimited access to this stuff and he's sure he can run some experiments on the side while he processes, maybe if he asks really nice.... But, oh, wait, _disaster._ "I can't skip out on this photoshoot tomorrow," and that's _miserable._ "I think Hermann would actually kill me..."

"Hermann? Wait, that dork with the cane?" Hannibal's eyebrows shoot up, startled. "The hell's he got to do with a photoshoot?"

"He kind of set it up? It's a thing, his wife's a model..."

Hannibal's laugh is startled. "The guy must have a third leg, and I don't mean the cane," and, ok, that's hilarious, and Newt's cackling is matched by Hannibal's rumbly laugh. "Sure, fine, you can come after your god damn photoshoot," he chuckles, and Newt pumps a victory-fist, but, oh, wait...

"Let me just call back to base and make sure..." and Hannibal makes a shooing motion, so Newt peels off a glove and fishes his phone out and dials Tendo. "Say 'what's up' if you're in trouble," and Tendo sounds so serious that Newt kind of laughs on accident and there's rustling, which can't be good, so he'd better get it together.

"Nah, man, everything's fine, I promise," and Tendo grumbles at him but the sounds of activity cease, so that's good, then. "I just... So listen, is it cool if I come back here tomorrow and stay for a couple days, there's so much to do here, Tendo, I'm serious..."

"I'm not sure that's a great plan," and Newt kind of hyperventilates and ok, fine, maybe his vision whites out for a second, and Hannibal gives him an alarmed little shake, and maybe he kind of squawked a tiny bit because Tendo's laughing at him, but kind of grimly.

"I'm serious, Tendo, we've never seen anything like this before and Hannibal will let me have access to _so much data_ , so much, it's irreplaceable, and all I've got to do is help him out here for a couple of days and this is a _serious breakthrough,_ ok, i'm not kidding, if you tell me no I might, like, defect or _die_ or something..."

And Tendo's laughing again, wheezes out, "I get it, ok, I hear you. But this is... Well, I've got to check it out with Herc. I'll get back to you, ok?"

"Great! Awesome!" and Newt hangs up before Tendo has time to think twice about it because seriously, _Newt will die_ if this gets wrenched out of his grasp.

Hannibal's quirking his mouth like he's trying not to laugh, gives Newt another little shake. "So, we set?"

"Um, sort of?" Breathing. Yes. Breathing is a thing he must do. "Tendo's checking it out with Herc - oh, um, Marshall Hansen, and they're going to get back to me, and maybe can I stay and run a couple of experiments while we wait?"

Hannibal snorts, cuffs him gently right in the head which, seriously, will people stop messing with his hair? Hannibal laughs at him outright when he pats it back into place, but he says, "Sure, kid, knock yourself out," and Newt kind of thumps him in a comradely fashion, which makes Hannibal quirk his mouth again and mutter something under his breath, but he steps away from Newt and the tanks so Newt's calling it a victory.

So, probably better to leave the live-wire sample alone and let the sensors do their work, but the other active sample... It's throwing off a little electricity, but not much. Not enough that it'll hurt him, provided someone will stand with him and shut the juice down if he loses muscle control, and if it's really adapting, if it's supposed to be measuring human biology... He fishes around in his pocket for his other glove and his stupid bracelet catches on a belt loop. Oh, right, that. He whips out his phone again and fires off a quick text to Tendo. _I'm taking off my bracelet real quick. Not long. It's a science emergency._

The phone rings immediately and Newt grudgingly picks up. "Newt. Newt, no," Tendo says, and that voice is all business.

"Seriously, can I just explain?" And Tendo is totally trying to talk but Newt just steamrolls right over him. "The samples are throwing off electricity, right, and I need to get in there, but I'm not sticking a big metal object near live current."

Tendo sighs, and it sounds like he's muttering numbers, maybe counting to ten. "You'll just do it anyway, won't you?"

"Probably, yeah," Newt admits, and he actually feels kind of guilty because Tendo's sigh sounds seven kinds of tired. "Seriously, dude, it will take like.... two minutes. Like ten at the outside, I swear I'll put it right back on..."

"Ten minutes," Tendo growls, and Newt hangs up on him again. "Ok, Li?" he hollers, and she looks awfully tired, but comes on over. "So listen, I think this thing is built to measure human biological input, but it's misbehaving, and we haven't got much of a window to see what it'll do under stress conditions. I'm gonna need you to man the monitor and sensors. Make sure they're reading out and, uh..." He tries a grin, but it must not be working because she just looks more freaked out. "So listen, it's a little better than two milliamps, which should be fine but there's a small - like, seriously small, teeny-tiny - possibility that it'll shock me and I won't be able to move, in which case I need you to cut the current, ok?" She looks scared, looks like she's turning toward Hannibal, in fact, and that'll take time, what if he has questions, so, um, "Seriously, Li, _now,_ time's a-wastin'," and he slips out of the bracelet, lets it fall to the floor, and kind of tugs her over to the monitor. "Ready? In three, two..."

"Wait," she cries but he's not letting this chance slip by and he's plunging his hand into the tank which, ow, seriously, you can _feel_ that, and geez, the sensor-tubes are in overdrive, that's seriously unpleasant, and that's kind of a burrowing sensation which seems very possibly not good and...

"Christ you, MORON," Hannibal roars in his ear, yanking Newt's arm out of the tank with enough force that his arm ends up over his head and Newt totters on tip-toe, stumbling hard as Hannibal tows him to a ready tank of base neutralizer and jams his arm in roughly, rough enough that Newt almost face-plants into the tank, in fact. He sputters but... Oh, wow, that's a scary face, Jesus Christ, and Newt kind of cowers on instinct. Oh, but, wait, "My bracelet," he says, and Hannibal shakes him, which, ow, oh my god this is terrifying, but, "Seriously, Hannibal, my bracelet - if I don't put it back on, the Shatterdome, they'll send in the cavalry," and Hannibal shakes him, a little more gently this time, and barks some Chinese out and then someone's jamming the bracelet on his free hand none too gently. "Careful! I need that hand," he cries, which for some reason sets Hannibal off again, he's shoving Newt's shoulder, forcing him down further into the neutralizer, and something... Something's _moving_ , something's moving _on his arm,_ big enough that you can see it through the shirtsleeve, and he kind of jerks frantically and manages, "Something, there's something, my arm, look," and Jesus Christ, that was fast, his arm's out of the tank and Hannibal's crazy knife thing's open, slitting into his shirt-sleeve, and - Jesus, Jesus - there's a bit of sensor-tube, moving, _burrowing_ , it looks like, or starting to, and then Hannibal's flicking the knife-thing at his arm, oh god, oh my god, but he's just spearing the sensor-tube, doesn't even nick Newt, and quick as blinking Hannibal's flicking the knife up, a little bit of wriggling sensor-tube writhing on the end, oh wow, that's... That's something, and Hannibal drops the knife into the neutralizer, way down on one end, shoves Newt's arm back into the opposite end, and hollering, "Medic!"

Someone comes running, there's back-and-fourth in Chinese, and Hannibal's shoving off him. A growl, still too near. "You god damn moron," and that's... not an excellent tone.

The medic brushes fingers along Newt's arm, takes his pulse, and there's more Mandarin, and Hannibal barks, "Go get him cleaned up," and two people are ushering him out of the workroom, which, ok, but.... "Make sure the sensors stay on that sample," Newt hollers, and wow, that's.... Hannibal definitely kind of just roared, so Newt allows himself to be steered out without further comment. The room he's hustled into is dimmer than the workroom, nice wood, all kinds of weird gold designs tracing up around the doorposts and part of the wall. There's a big sink, and one of the guys who brought him there starts unbuttoning Newt's shirt which is... really weird, actually, and he tries to sort of smack the guy away and he says something unfriendly-sounding, but Newt shakes him off, undoes the rest of the buttons himself with admittedly shaky hands. The guy grabs his ruined shirt and chucks it into an absurdly ornate trashcan, all done up in red leather and gold. The shirt-buttoning-guy gestures at the sink and Newt flicks the taps on, scrubs himself up with the pungent soap resting beside the sink. He's still rinsing when Hannibal burst in, says something curt and the two guys who brought him here just kind of melt out the door.

Hannibal looks... He looks, terrifying, honestly, but Newt squares his shoulders because he is a goddamn rock star and he will not be thrown around again, ok? "Thanks for the save, dude," he says, and he sounds pretty steady, so that's something.

Hannibal snorts out a heavy breath. "Moron," he growls, but he sounds a whole lot calmer than he had out on the main floor.

"Yeah, sorry, won't happen again," and Hannibal kind of heaves a mean breath, so, "I mean, reactivity, that was kind of a blue light special."

"You do somethin' like that - don't do somethin' like that, and you sure as hell talk to someone first," and Hannibal's still growling, but it's pretty close to his normal tone.

"Oh, yeah, totally, I mean, this is kind of a one-time occurrence, and, I mean, you get it, I needed the data..."

Hannibal holds up a finger and Newt actually allows himself to be shut up because, well, contrary to popular reports he does have some sense of self-preservation. " _Next time,_ and you're a god damn moron so there will be a next time - somethin' like this comes up, you don't use your own damn hand. You need data, I get it, but I got people for shit like that. What, you think I didn't test for a reaction to human tissue?" and that's... startling, and a little confusing and very probably not ok, but whatever, Newt smiles agreeably and holds up placating hands.

"Got it," he says in what he hopes is a calming voice, and Hannibal doesn't seem like he's going to shout again, so maybe it worked? "So, when you say human testing..."

Hannibal shakes his head, points at Newt's arm. "Lemme see," and he can do that; Newt kind of flops out the arm that had been affected and Hannibal shoves his face awfully close to it, like he's checking for marks. Hannibal sighs, whips his glasses off one-handed to get a better look. Right, vision problems, probably - the light in here is kind of low, way lower than it is out on the main floor.

It doesn't look like the sensor-tube had a chance to latch on - well, wait, there's a very faint mark near Yamarashi's septal structure, but it's not bad. Hannibal drags fingers down his arm, the snorts. "You got off lucky."

"Yeah," Newt admits.

"No, kid, you got real fuckin' lucky. Got a guy in medical goin' through detox, maybe amputation, because those god damn tubes got somethin' into his bloodstream," and that's... Wow.

"So, um, when you say something in the bloodstream..." and Hannibal gives him a nasty look.

"Before you ask, yeah you can see data, no, I'm not affected, and no, I won't talk you through why that is." And, what, no, but Hannibal's kind of chuckling and says, "Let's just say this ain't the first time one of us got exposed to kaiju innards. We figured out some treatments real quick."

"Come _on,_ " Newt whines, and Hannibal's shaking his head.

"Maybe you'll get access and maybe you won't. Right now, I'm thinkin' you're more trouble than you're worth," and that's so unfair, like really unfair.

"Hannibal..." and fine, that's a whine, he's totally whining, but.

Hannibal snorts. "Behave yourself and I'll think about it."

"Fine," Newt grumbles, and Hannibal's laughing at him which is... kind of a relief, actually, no more highway to the danger zone, anyway? "I told you, blue light special."

Hannibal snorts, and he's still kind of touching Newt's arm, but now he's tracing the whorls of Yamarashi. "This is nice work," he says, and, ok, awesome, that's a pretty badass complement, considering.

"Right? You have no idea, it was not so easy to find a guy in Tokyo who would even think about this kind of design, honestly I think he'd have kicked me out if I weren't PPDC," and Hannibal snorts again. Newt tugs his arm free, turns so that Hannibal can get a full view of the sweet shoulder work. It's one of his best designs, not that they aren't all pretty awesome, but Clawhook and Tentalus just _flow_ across his shoulders, claws reaching toward one another to meet over his spine, and he'd suffered for that one, for sure, but it was so worth it. The big guy comes right up behind Newt and runs an idle finger up Newt's side, probably tracing along Karloff. "One of the first I ever worked on," Newt starts. "Man, I thought... I'd never seen anything that _big,_ and there's some seriously weird structural choices going on in the cranium, and I thought, uh, hey, watch it, that kind of tickles."

Hannibal snorts again and gives Newt a little tug. He turns around obligingly, face to face again. "You gonna finish that back piece?"

Oh. "Um, maybe?" That's been bothering him, actually. "I just... I only wear kaiju I worked on, ok, well, and a couple where my work played a big part in the takedown even if we couldn't get useable tissue? But we won, that's huge, right, and I'm still thinking through the symbolism of that, you know?"

Hannibal cocks his head and Newt suddenly feels... naked, which he is, sort of, and he's not going to cross his arms because he is a rock star and he will hold his ground, goddammit. Hannibal's scrutiny is kind of freaking him out, though, and this is a heavy sort of silence, so, "Plus, you know, I'm not sure when I'll get to Tokyo again anyway, but, hey, Herc kind of implied that we'll start getting paid again..."

"Start gettin' paid? Don't tell me you're workin' for free, kid," and Hannibal's definitely glowering at him.

"I mean, sort of? Not really? I mean, food and shelter plus lab access, which is definitely not nothing, and PPDC covers all my specimens?"

Hannibal shakes his head. "Doesn't sound like a paycheck."

Which, ok, that is definitely a sore spot. Newt shrugs. "They slashed the budget, and then slashed it again, and it wasn't like we could just leave, you know? What, I was supposed to leave my work and take off for U Chicago and just hope the kaiju went away because clearly we had it all figured out, let's hide behind the Wall, which, fuck those guys..." Hannibal blows out a long breath and Newt shrugs again, because this is awkward and maybe he shouldn't be spewing this kind of inside baseball. "Long story short, a lot of us have been holding it together without what you'd call a 'salary' for a little while now, but things are looking up?"

Hannibal shakes his head. "Unbelievable. A guy like you, workin' for nothin'..."

"It wasn't for nothing. We're still here, right? I mean, humanity's still here, so I'd sure say it was worth it." And Hannibal's still giving him a look, but his eyes slide away when there's a knock on the door and the bald lady sticks her head in, says something in urgent-sounding Cantonese.

Hannibal's outright glaring again. "Mind tellin' me why half of PPDC security's heading to my place?"

"Uh..." and Newt glances at his wrist which, nope, bracelet's on, but come to think of it, he's been feeling his phone buzz. He fishes it out of his pocket - nine missed calls, so sue him, he's been a little busy, ok? He dials Tendo, who picks up before the first ring finishes out. "Sorry, dude, had a little lab emergency, what..."

"Newt, you absolutely cannot do this," and Tendo sounds... scared? Frustrated? Whatever, it's certainly not good.

"I get it. I'm sorry - I've had my hands full, or, well, my hands in neutralizer, but I'll watch it, ok? I'm sorry, dude, really sorry."

Tendo's muttering, and Newt can hear him clicking away at his keyboard. "Just a second, and I swear if you don't pick up when I call back..."

"I will," Newt promises and the line goes dead. Hannibal's looking pretty murderous, so Newt holds up a placating hand. "Dude, I think they're looking for me, but that was Tendo, so..." And then his phone rings again, which he picks up immediately. "Just like I promised, Tendo, I'm here. We're cool?"

Tendo sighs. "You can't do stuff like this. You're gonna go over there, you need to follow ground rules..."

Which, unfair! "Tendo, come on, I have been, I'm wearing the bracelet, I have security with me, come on, you never said anything about watching the phone...."

Tendo sighs again. "That's true," he says, but he doesn't sound happy about it. "You scared the bejeezus out of us, though, taking off the bracelet and then going dark like that."

"I won't do it again."

"Ok." Tendo takes an audible breath. "Ok. So, you're gonna stay there, there are ground rules. Security personnel with you, and I mean with you, not in some side room..."

"Um, I don't know if Hannibal's gonna go for that?" Newt tries, because come to think of it, his security's never made it onto the workroom floor when he visits.

"He's going to have to," and Tendo sounds pretty grim. " _And_ you're gonna check in every two hours by phone. You miss a call, we're taking you out. You got that?"

"Every two hours? That's... Tendo, that's not even feasible, what..."

Hannibal snaps his fingers. "Gimme that," and, wow, ok, Hannibal just snatched his phone. Newt tries to grab it back, but Hannibal fends him off with an impatient hand.

"Things like this happen, I get to thinkin' you don't trust me," Hannibal growls into the phone.

Tendo must be saying something he doesn't like, because that's not a good look, not at all. "Thought we were doin' business together, but I'm startin' to get a different idea," and that's a deadly-quiet sort of tone.

Tendo must be backing off a little though, because Hannibal relaxes a little. "Yeah, fine, but I won't have fifty people wanderin' through my operation. One guard, and he gets in the way and I'm callin' this deal off and clearing them both out, got it?" Ok, this is infuriating. It is worse than awful to hear only half of this conversation, because it's him they're talking about, and oh, wait, there's still live samples on the floor... He tries to sort of edge toward the door but Hannibal gives him an awful glare and clamps a hand around Newt's arm, hard enough to hurt. Fine. Message received. He kind of leans in, trying to pick up what Tendo's saying, and Hannibal sighs but doesn't shake him off.

He can't really hear anyway, and now Hannibal's drawn his arm in so he can't really step back to a more normal distance. "The security guy can do the check-ins, right? I won't trust the resident genius here not to forget..."

"Hey!" Because that's not even fair, but Hannibal gives him a little shake so he subsides, but that doesn't mean he's happy about it.

"Yeah, we'll keep this real friendly," Hannibal growls and hangs up, shakes Newt again. "You cause more god damn trouble..."

"This is not even my fault," Newt cries and Hannibal releases Newt's arm to pinch at the bridge of his nose.

"Don't make me wonder if it's worth the bother," Hannibal threatens.

Newt draws himself up. "Whatever, dude, you can use the help and frankly I'm better than the guys you have working for you," and whoa, that's a nasty glare, time to change tack, "and besides, it'll be fun? Come on, don't even lie to me, I know you like the science parts."

Hannibal laughs at him. "Punk," is all he says, but this is the nicest he's sounded in like forever. "Get the hell out of here before I change my mind."

"But the live-wire sample..." Newt says without really meaning to, and Hannibal shakes his head.

"I'll keep Li on it, but you're gettin' out of here before you blow somethin' up." That really sucks, but Hannibal snakes an arm around his shoulders, gripping hard, and kind of manhandles him out the door, and keeps on dragging him through the workroom without even letting him glance at the sample tanks which is just cruel and unusual. Then they're in the foyer, and Newt's security guy kind of double takes and gives him a weird look. Oh, right, not wearing a shirt. Newt would shrug but he's kind of pinned in, so he just grins and throws the rock horns. The security guy actually honest-to-god facepalms and Hannibal laughs outright, gives him a hearty shove and Newt's stumbling out the door. "Get the hell out of here," and the door closes on Hannibal's chuckle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG! This was so much fun to write! Sorry about the longer-than-usual update interval, but this chapter is about 2k more than they have typically been. Plus, Newt is *very excited* in this chapter.... It was almost tiring to keep up with him in the writing; like telm_393 was saying, imagine how tiring it is to *be* Newt!
> 
> Anyway, man oh man, I have been really enjoying talking about this story and Pacific Rim in general with you guys! I'd absolutely love to hear from you if there are things that you liked or did not like in this chapter! I was worried that I crammed too much K-science babble in, but Newt is the sort of person who is very excited about reactive samples and I hope that the K-science was both clearly explained and of interest! Also it was *killing me* not to get to give any of Hannibal's POV on all of this, and it cracked me right up that he and Hermann have similar reactions to Newt's bad lab choices. Anyway, this note is sort of getting away from me. What I meant to convey was that this is such an amazing writing experience, in large part because you have been very generous readers. I can't tell you how much I appreciate it! As always, comments and criticism are highly welcome! n_r and skullopendra have set me straight on a couple of points already, much to my benefit, so please don't feel shy about telling me if you think something could be improved!
> 
> ETA: OMG. SQUEE. I am having a little joy conniption because I hit 100 kudos which is SO KIND and you guys are THE BEST and TRIPLE DIGITS, how can this be? :D:D *high fives all around*


	6. There's nothing to it?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Timing: This is set the day after Chapters 4-5 (8 days post V-K Day)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Newt is made to feel a little body-conscious by a _Vogue_ photographer in this chapter, though it's just mentioned in passing.

Ok, fine, Maybe he's sort of avoiding Hermann. A little bit. It hasn't exactly been hard, the Shatterdome's crawling with reporters and Hermann is - hilariously and ineffectually - trying to avoid all of them, which means Newt's not so much avoiding Hermann as doing his rockstar duty by diving right into the press frenzy, right? But honestly, he's had enough people yelling at him, and that list definitely includes Hermann during the brief and horrible period where the lady from _Popular Science_ caught up to them and almost certainly got a couple of clear shots of the two of them screaming at each other, which Hermann is totally going to yell at him again over, because they are clearly going to run those instead of the posed pictures because Hermann makes awful faces when people shine a light at him and tell him to smile.

The avoidance train is coming to a halt soon anyway because they don't get to skip two o'clock scan times, not even for "apparently you can't declare a press blackout because of security/tiredness and then lift it just for _Vogue_ so everybody's going to have to give about nine million interviews and glare at Newt because _Vogue_ is sort of his fault" day. Anyway. He absolutely refuses to face the _Vogue_ people in this shirt - nobody tells you that camera lights are really hot, and his white shirt is pretty thin and it's kind of turning into a wet t-shirt fiesta over here, so he's going to risk a trip back to his room even though the hallway's a Possible Hermann Encounter Zone.

Which, yep. Oof. Busted. Sort of? Maybe he's doing the busting, actually, because Hermann's curled into a pretty lady, face buried in her curly black hair, hands white-knuckling on her elaborate dress. She's got her face pressed to the top of Hermann's head and she looks so... happy. She looks really happy. And really, really pregnant.

They're not that far from his door and he can't remember what they say about fetal exposure, so, "Um, there's a lot of kaiju and chemicals in my room?" he says, which, whoops, way to kill the moment Newt because the lady stiffens and Hermann rounds on him and actually snarls. Newt's hands whip in front of him automatically, because that is a this-means-war face if ever he's seen one. "By which I totally meant, hi, you must be Vanessa, maybe don't lean on my wall just in case?"

"Dr. Geiszler," she says, kind of meanly, while Hermann's still too enraged to holler at him.

"You presume correctly?" he tries, and Hermann's kind of gone pre-verbal, which is unprecedented and extremely freaky. "I was, um, really looking forward to meeting you, which, I mean, maybe at a time when I wasn't super-sweaty and everybody's least favorite person?"

"The way Hermann tells it, you are always everybody's least favorite person," she says, but she's kind of half-laughing so, um, progress?

"You let her call you Hermann?" he blurts out and gosh, can he just stuff words back in his mouth with his hands or something because Hermann snort-growls.

"Dr. Geiszler, she is my _wife,_ " and, well, can't argue with that, buddy.

"So, I'm just gonna..." And he's trying to edge toward his door but Hermann blocks him with his cane.

"It is nearly two o'clock, and..."

"And I know that, because I am totally responsible, and was just running back here to change into a new shirt and then I was gonna head right to the scanning lab, I swear, and I didn't mean to interrupt your moment so I'm going to just.... stop doing that and go change clothes?" he tries, and Vanessa's totally giggling now - she has a nice laugh, actually; he was not expecting that, for some reason.

He actually has to hop over Hermann's cane which is maybe not a high water mark in his dignity career, and Vanessa's laughing and murmuring something that sounds suspiciously like "You told me, but I didn't really believe..." and yeah, he's just gonna close his door on that fiasco.

And he's been a little busy, ok, so maybe he doesn't exactly have any buttondowns that are what he'd call "clean," so, um, undershirt it is, because they're presumably going to re-dress him anyway, he hopes, and if not he'll just pick kind of a tight one and hope for James Dean, except without the jacket because his is totally shot - ripped and kind of kaiju-y and maybe that's badass? But it kind of reeks so probably less "badass" than "gross," and Hermann's pounding on his door so time's up anyway.

"Coming, Hermann," he cries, maybe unnecessarily because he's already opened the door and so he kind of shouted that last bit right into Hermann's frowning face. Vanessa's still laughing, but kind of waves before shutting herself into Hermann's room, so maybe that hadn't gone too badly?

Hermann clearly disagrees because he's hobbling down the hall at a rate of speed that makes it clear that Newt is not to walk with him or, god forbid, attempt conversation. Well, screw that. He jogs a couple of steps to catch up. "You reek," Hermann informs him, which is pretty rich because he's not exactly Mr. Hygiene but see if Newt goes bringing that up.

Newt is totally the bigger man, so, "Your wife's really nice?" he tries.

"An obvious fact and one that I am well aware of," and fine, be that way, Hermann.

"I don't know who peed in your Cheerios..."

And Hermann jerks along even faster, hisses, "There is no need for vulgarity, although heaven knows that's never stopped you."

Which is just not on. "Come on, Hermann, I don't think..."

"Truer words," Hermann interrupts.

"Geez," Newt mutters, but he knows when he's beat so he subsides into silence but keeps pace with Hermann just to irritate him.

Which means they're the first to arrive at the scanning labs. Hermann pokes at the equipment, but there's nothing much to set up and the silence is really oppressive, ok? "Look, I'm sorry..." he starts.

And, oh, no, that wasn't the right tack because Hermann throws his hands in the air. "You're sorry? I should hope so. Sorry that you dodged your security team and pulled off that verdammt bracelet without so much as a word to me? I thought you were _dead._ _Again._ Heaven knows you seem to actively court death..."

"Hey!" he interjects but Hermann flaps his hands even more furiously.

"You're sorry, but clearly not sorry enough to _pay the slightest bit of attention to..._ "

The door bangs open and Raleigh Beckett to the rescue. Hermann glares at him and Raleigh backs up a step, right into Mako. "Uh, is this a bad time?"

"Dr. Geiszler is here. It is always a bad time," Hermann growls, and Mako tries to pass off her laugh as a cough but she's not smooth enough to fool Hermann, who turns his Disapproval Face on her. "Well. Sit down."

Tendo comes in, shaking his head, and everyone just sits in silence while Hermann gets them hooked up - he pulled Newt's hair on purpose, don't think he didn't notice - and at least the count-and-scan goes smoothly.

They've barely wriggled out of the Pons helmets when there's a perfunctory knock and Henrietta from ops open's the door and says, " _Vogue's_ a little early. They're right out here."

Hermann mutters something murderous-sounding, but Tendo, Raleigh and Mako troop gamely out the door. Newt still feels a little raw from the scan, honestly, but Hermann shrugs him off harshly when he tries to lean up into his space over the monitors. "Don't neglect your public, Newton," he grumps, but, hey, it's back to Newton and not Dr. Geiszler, so maybe they're out of the woods?

"They're heroes. Show some respect!" And that's Raleigh, already picking fights in the corridor. Great.

Newt steps out anyway because better whatever that is than more Hermann-time just now. "Hi?"

"I am sure there are other concepts," and that's some serious death-glare from Mako, aimed at some poor guy with a hilarious mustache and a topknot who's smiling apologetically and rummaging in a big bag on his hip. He produces a portfolio from it, which Mako promptly snatches, and the guy doesn't look too happy about it. Newt avoids his appealing look and turns to Raleigh.

"What's up?" he asks, and Raleigh rolls his shoulders, shakes his head.

"They want to put them in _geisha makeup,_ " and wow, yeah, that's.... pretty gross. "Wang Yan's not even Japanese."

"Welcome to high fashion. Racism-and-sexism-r-us," Newt says and wow, hi, lady, where the heck did you come from.

"I'm sorry you feel that way," says Ninja Lady. She's all in black, fitted pants and some crazy space-age blazer. "Mildred Crowsely. I'll be your photographer."

"Sorry," Newt says faintly and holds his hand out for what proves to be a hard, brisk shake.

"I'm sure we'll find something that works for all of us," is all she says, and her lack of smiling is kind of intimidating, maybe, but she kind of exudes competence, so that's something. "Come this way. We've got a ready room set up just two doors down."

And sure enough, there's a whole bunch of people and mirrors crammed into a hastily-cleared storage room. There's a pretty serious lighting setup in the hallway just outside, lots of blinding white backdrop. Crowsley follows Newt's gaze and says, "Yes, we've got some location shots set up but I think we may want a few with a blank backdrop. Hmm," she says, eyeing his forearms. "Yes, definitely. Morrison!" And she's shooing him into the ready room, dropping back to whisper with Topknot Guy.

Suddenly a whole roomful of people are eyeing them up. Someone's coaxing Raleigh into a chair and slathering his face with shaving cream, and a smiling girl is holding out her hand for Mako to shake and, oh, wait, someone's trying to get his attention. "Hi, I'm Newt," he says, maybe a little bit rushed, because the guy looks sort of uncertain but gestures toward a chair. 

"Roger. I'll be doing your makeup."

And, ok, Newt should have seen that coming but, "Uh, just so you know, eyeliner makes me look like a squinty raccoon."

Roger snorts out a laugh. "Noted. Just a second, ok?" and then he's pressed into the chair and Roger's off to consult with Crowsley, looks like.

Wang Yan's in the chair next to his. They've already got her to strip out of the top half of her coverall. She catches his eye, gives a philosophical shrug. Newt gives her the thumbs-up, and then Roger's back. "Right, so, stubble's a good look on you. That means we'll do most of the skin tone work in photoshop later, but I'm still going to fill in your brows a little bit. Don't worry, your squinty-raccoon secret is safe with me," and that's pretty awesome, so Newt lets himself laugh and holds up his hand for a high-five, and this Roger guy's all right, because he smacks hands before rummaging through the kit on the little ledge he's set up. "Lose the shirt," Roger orders.

"Buy me dinner first," and that's only good for a half-grin, which is harsh, but fine. He tugs his glasses off and Roger snatches them out of his hand which is not so awesome because he really needs those but whatever. Off with the shirt and then Roger's face is really close, so Newt lets his eyes fall shut and tries not to giggle because honestly, eyebrows are not a respectable tickle-zone, but Roger's giggling too so, busted.

"Hmmm," and thats a critical-sounding _hmmm_. "A little concealer, maybe."

"Ok?" Newt offers, but clearly his input is not needed here because there's already a brush running over his temple and Newt's being so good that he doesn't even wriggle.

"Monsoon!" Roger hollers. "This is Monsoon, she's the man-hair guru."

"Hi?" but he honestly can't see who he's talking to, and it doesn't seem to matter much because there's just a grunt and then super-cold water right on his head. Fine, he totally yelped, but that's no reason to tug on his hair like that, and oh, wait, maybe that's not vengeance but styling because it feels like she's coaxing his hair pretty high with a longtailed comb. It's really loud in here and honestly a little much to take in.

And then everyone's just kind of abandoned him. He kind of pats around for his glasses but someone smacks his hand so he's just sitting, blind and lonely, for what feels like quite a while. Newt isn't sure what he was expecting, exactly, but this wasn't it.

A noisy, jostly eternity and someone's helping him out of his chair.

"My glasses..." he says to whoever-that-is.

"You won't need them," and that sounds like Crowsley?

"I'd really feel better...." because not seeing at all is really pretty awful.

"Fine," and someone's putting them on for him, running a careful finger over the hair around the earpiece and that's... pretty awful, actually.

"Don't squirm," whoever-it-is orders, and Newt tries, he really does.

Then Crowsley's there out of nowhere - she's totally a ninja. Her eyes rake over him, lingering judgmentally on his belly. Newt resists the urge to cross his arms because he's got nothing to be ashamed of and not everyone can be Raleigh "the Washboard" Beckett, ok?

Crowsley just gives him a nod and says, "The Rock and Republic jeans, I think?" to Topknot Guy, who nods decisively. Someone tugs him over to a little fabric booth-thing in the corner and presses a pair of pants into his hands before yanking the curtain shut behind him. Well, all right then. He wriggles out of his own pants and into the truly rocking (and republic-ing) jeans that have some kind of reptilian pattern worked into the right leg in gold thread. He totally approves, and they fit, more or less. There's a little bit of wriggling and sucking in to be done but still, they feel good.

"Ok?" he hollers and Topknot guy peels the curtain back, gives him the eye. "Crowsley!" he hollers. "The Miu Mius, or the Docs?"

"Docs, for this one. Add a lift," and he doesn't even have time to be pissed off about that before he's fumbling some pretty righteous black boots on. He's got to admit he feels pretty studly.

"Ok, I need Beckett, Geiszler, and Mori in the hall, please," and that's Crowsley, crisp voice cutting effortlessly through the din.

He tugs on the lady who's hustling him out into the hallway. "Uh, don't I need a shirt?"

"Not for this shot," Crowsley answers, and leads him onto the white fabric covering part of the floor, spins him around to face the white backdrop. "Beckett, over to the left a little, please. Adjust that left light - we want it to catch his shoulder. Good. Beckett, Geiszler. Stand strong, legs apart, arms up, like you're doing a jumping jack. A jumping jack, Dr. Geiszler, not the YMCA." And then a firm hand is pushing at his elbows. Someone is stooping at his feet, adjusting the bottom of his pants and splaying the laces of one boot out on the white fabric just so. "Face forward please, Dr. Geiszler." And then someone's smoothing the waist of his jeans, which makes him yelp and wriggle, so sue him, and somebody just might because there's a pissy sigh and then all kinds of hands are guiding him, nudging his knees apart, adjusting his arms, coaxing his hands into fists. "Beckett, Geiszler, you're good. Hold, please. Mori, if you'll just... That's right, hold the staff level, please." There's shuffling right behind him - must be Mako. "Good. Hold." There's a whole lot of clicking, and then, "Mori, touch the staff to the ground on the left. Oh - that's, yes, good, hold." More clicking. "Great. At ease, folks," which is weird to hear from Crowsley but he's pretty glad to drop his arms by this point, so he's not going to question it.

"Come here and take a look if you like," Crowsley offers, and yeah, he'd like. He weasels in between Raleigh and Mako to peer at the little monitor Crowsley's set up and...

"Righteous!" he says, because it is, and Raleigh laughs at him. The first couple of frames have Mako, all done up in a very high-collared dress with a lot of buckley-strappy things criss-crossing it, holding a kwoon staff in stiff arms. It's a power-pose, made more so by the challenging glare she's giving the camera. Newt and Raleigh are clearly just the background, although they look pretty sweet, too, strong x-shapes and tight pants. Whatever they're doing with the lights has really caught Raleigh's Drivesuit burns - which, he doesn't look too upset, so that's good? - and the colors in Clawhook are just blazing. "Oh, wow," he breathes, because the next couple are even more remarkable, Mako coiled into the beginnings of an attack posture, staff cutting across he backdrop at a sharp angle.

"Indeed," Crowsley says, sounding pretty amused. Whatever. Credit where credit is due. "I think we're ready for Mr. Choi."

"Welcome to the big time, huh," Raleigh says, smiling, while they lead Tendo out. Someone's coaxed his hair to unprecedented heights and there's a rich pattern on the bowtie they've chosen for him, a crazy orange that matches the laces of the shiny dress shoes he's got going on. They aren't messing much with a good thing - they've got him in suit pants and suspenders. Crowsley lets him clown for the camera, pulling the suspenders out with both thumbs, then shifting to peek over one shoulder, Betty Grable style. "You're a natural, Tendo," Newt hollers.

"Shut it, Dr. Geiszler," and that's Crowsley.

Raleigh laughs. "That didn't take long."

"I get no respect," Newt grumbles, and Raleigh thumps his shoulder because they are totally bros now.

It's Tendo's turn at the monitor but Newt worms his way in, too. "Looking good, dude," he says, jostling Tendo in the side with an elbow.

"I must say I agree," Crowsely says from - oh geez - right behind him. "Back to the ready room, Geiszler."

"I thought we were done?" and Crowley outright laughs at him.

"Oh, Dr. Geiszler, we're just getting started."

***

Newt kind of smucks into the wall as he's typing, but walking and texting has never been his strong suit and photoshoots are weirdly tiring, apparently, plus he's halfway switched back into gangster science mode. But he's not just gonna leave without saying anything, because that would be a jerk move, especially with Hermann all worked up already. Even though Hermann knows he's leaving and this might not be a good time but, well. _This is your fair warning, Hermann. I'm going to knock on your door in five,_ Newt texts because the guy's wife's here and Newt's not a monster even if the thought of Hermann having sexy-times is a little unsettling. _PS: I had them e-mail you some of the proofs so you can have the pinup of me you've always wanted._ he types.

Predictably enough, that causes his phone to buzz like it's full of bees, but the texts are just keyboard smashes, which is really not Hermann's style. Newt gets his explanation soon enough; another buzz, and his phone says, _Leave my poor husband alone, Geiszler. I think you just gave him a fit._

 _Um, ok, but I just wanted to tell him that I'm leaving for Hannibal's but I'll be back for scans and I double-swear I'll be careful, and PS I hope we get to hang out sometime, are you sticking around?_ and maybe that's over the line but, Hermann's wife, Newt ought to be friendly or something, right?

 _I'm leaving now but I'm sure I haven't seen the last of you. I'll pass the rest along._ Which... OK, it's hard to tell if she's joking around? It's not like he had time to win any points - and he's not even sure if he wants to, the way Hermann gets when she calls, but, well, in the hall earlier Hermann had looked... Happy? Happy is not the right word - maybe enthralled? Something good, anyway, something big. Not what Newt was expecting, anyway, but when is it ever, with Hermann.

But anyway. Friend duty's out of the way. It's packing time. He's really glad that he's got pajama pants, even if they're kind of embarrassing - all covered in Jaeger logos, a gag gift from Tendo one Christmas. It would just be too weird to run around Hannibal Chau's place in shorts, though. A toothbrush, maybe? Other than that, it's not like he's not coming back every day for scans, so maybe he doesn't need to bring clothes? Yeah, he'll go with that. Well, maybe clean socks, just so nobody thinks he's gross.

He's more or less got everything crammed in his messenger bag when there's a sharp rap on his door. "Coming!" he hollers, and who could it be but Security Sergeant Jezebel Jones.

"Ready for sleepover duty, Sergeant?" He totally tamps down on the urge to eyebrow waggle because they aren't there yet, but even though Jezebel Jones snorts at him she's smiling, even if it's clearly kind of in spite of herself. Oh yeah. They're gonna be buddies in no time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG. Folks, I am hanging around at my hookah bar at 2 am after the world's worst Ikea run because my desire to keep this story rolling cannot be contained. It's just too much fun! Living in NYC has its perks, because Pacific Rim is still on a couple of screens here and I was able to catch a show on Friday. It was such an inspiring experience; there was a dad with his little kid right behind me, and the little kid just _lost it_ halfway through the movie. He was super into his new robot friends and had all kinds of thoughts on whether they needed bigger weapons (yes) and whether Mako was going to be all right (also yes!) and just in general it was the cutest.
> 
> Also, this is my incoherent joy Snoopy dance! You guys! You guys are SO GREAT. I am having so much fun talking with folks in the comment section; many of you are so generous with your theories and corrections, and it's really pushing me to be harder, better, faster, stronger in an extremely enjoyable way! Thanks so, so much! I couldn't be more grateful, and I hope we'll get a chance to chat about this chapter, too! XOXOX!!! More exclamation points!
> 
> In particular, it seems I am stepping into something of a fandom hotspot in re Vanessa. I want Hermann to have all of the happiness, and I want female characters to, you know, exist, and I am trying very hard to meet both of those goals with this story. Part of that is with Vanessa, and part of it's with the OFCs I use when I need 'em (like Jezebel Jones and Wang Yan and Li). However, I'm always prone to multi-shipping and have some real love for Newt/Hermann, and concomitant mixed feelings about "the secret wife that is never mentioned onscreen and has a very, ahem, traditional set of background characteristics." I'm trying to be very canon-compliant with this story, so I broke the tie in favor of making Vanessa a functioning minor character in this tale. Basically, I'd love to talk to anyone with some feelings on the matter about how I am handling Vanessa, and I really hope her presence in the story is not ruffling anybody up too much. If it is, I'd love to hear why! Anyway, she won't be a huge presence in the story or anything, but I'm trying to handle her respectfully. I hope it's not breaking any deals. :/


	7. All That Glitters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Timing: This is set right after Newt leaves the Shatterdome the same day as Chapter 6 (so we're still 8 days post V-K Day!)

This is not his fault. Ok, maybe it's a little his fault, but it's mostly the PPDC's fault, because seriously maybe they should invest in cars that won't stall out when someone gives a little tiny accidental kick to the gearshift, and, honestly, maybe it's Jezebel Jones' fault, because stalling is clearly the predicted result of taking every pothole-filled corner in Hong Kong at max speed, cussing pedestrians be damned.

"Well, great," and Jezebel Jones' glare makes it pretty clear whose fault she thinks it is. "We're gonna have to get out and push."

"Can't we just..." and it's not really whining, because the foot traffic in the Bone Slums is _insane,_ and they're only like a block away from Hannibal's, but Jezebel Jones just shakes her head at him.

"Nuh uh. Nice try, but we're not leaving the car out to be cannibalized for parts." Her hand darts out to grab Newt's wrist way, way too hard. "And stay with me, Geiszler, because so help me, if you get nabbed off the streets..."

"Ok, ok, geez," he says, making little surrender hands, and Jezebel Jones smiles even though it's clearly kind of in spite of herself. She's being pretty nice, considering, so Newt doesn't just bail out of the car but wriggles over the stickshift - ouch, right in the gut, that thing is really kind of unnecessarily long - and out the drivers' side door to stand with her, which is long about the time one of the red-and-gold muscle cars decides to stop pretending it's not following them, rolls up to the intersection, honks, and then peels out of there hard enough to splutter a puddle of "don't even think about what's pooled on Hong Kong slum streets" all over, because - spoiler alert- Hannibal Chau employs some _serious assholes_.

"Come on," Jezebel sighs, but this is gonna be easier said than done, because the street's full of hustling pedestrians and nobody's really interested in getting out of the way. Even the terrifying Cantonese rant Jezebel Jones unleashes is barely enough to make a dent, especially because she keeps pausing to run back around the car and manually reposition his hands. "Aren't you supposed to be a genius? Leverage. It's not that hard," she grouses.

"Hey, I don't see you pushing..." he starts and she narrows her eyes so, yeah, not finishing that sentence.

She gives him a scary look but clearly his surrender's accepted because she just gets back to shouting at people who are either real brave or real dumb because who ignores almost six feet of hollering Security Sergeant?

Still, they manage to inch the car two hard-fought feet - which is enough to leave him seriously sticky-gross, it must be going to rain because the air's like a wet washcloth - before someone takes a year off his life by laying on the horn right behind him. Fine, he kind of yelped and lost his grip and almost fell but hardly anyone saw him and it's not _that_ funny. At least it's another black car, which means it's probably the good guys. Sure enough, Jezebel Jones sticks her head in the window and says something to the guys in the car. "Ok, short stack, come with me," and that kind of sucks but, well, progress? Because teasing is a universally recognized stepping-stone on the Friendship Highway, he's pretty sure.

It takes foreverrrrrrr to get the block or so to the ally behind Hannibal's, partially because people keep battering into him like he's not even there, partially because Jezebel Jones keeps coming to a hard stop in front of him and seriously, he's not that hard to keep track of, but the crowd doesn't part for him like it does for her. Talking to her's kind of a lost cause in the din, and he knows from bitter experience that his voice doesn't always carry up so well, and anyway, he's awfully glad to see Li lurking around on Hannibal's back stairs, even if she's surrounded by a bunch of conspicuously-larger-than-usual guys with red hatbands.

"You're late, Dr. Newt," Li calls down.

"Yeah, well, I texted?" he tries, shuffling up the stairs. She kind of shakes her head at him. "I guess fashion and broke-ass cars kinda wait for no man."

"Neither does Hannibal Chau," she says, and ok, that's just great. He'd say something smart, but he's kind of a little out of breath - seriously, this humidity is the worst - so Li just shakes her head again and says, "Mr. Chau is with a buyer now, so come with me, please." Jezebel Jones puts a conspicuous hand on his bicep and Li half-smiles. "Of course, your escort..." And that's hilarious, but he's barely started laughing when Jezebel tags him with an elbow, which was seriously kind of an athletic feat - how did she even twist that fast - and Li cracks a grin for that. "Your, um, security friend will come too, of course."

"Yeah, she will," Jezebel Jones mutters, but they barely make it two steps before she's in some kind of shoving match with one of the hatband guys.

"Give it up, dude, she's seriously a super-ninja with knives for elbows," and that draws a honest smile from JJ - he's calling her that, Tendo totally does, even if it's a total waste to nickname her - and a grunt from the guy, but they make their way to the workshop without further incident, so score one for Geiszler diplomacy. Turns out they've kind of rolled out the red carpet for ol' JJ; somebody leads her over to an enormous chair covered in crazy red cushions, perched next to a weird little carved table that has some gilded cards laid out on it. For solitaire, maybe? Anyway, Li's tugging on his sleeve. "What's cookin'?" and that gets him a weird look.

"Right now, we are processing adipose." Sure enough, there's a big tank of yucky goop that's way less blue than anything found in a kaiju, rigged up to what's pretty clearly a knockoff, hybridized Milking Machine.

Li's still talking, but he's kinda fascinated by the goop. He goes around to the monitor, but that's really no help - acidity's low, yeah, but he could have called that from the coloring. There's some kind of automated stirring mechanism, agitating the stuff into an eerie smoothness. "What's even in this?"

Li shakes her head. "As I was _saying,_ we have already neutralized it and mixed in the filler. There is no need for you to know the full formula, but the purification machine is not behaving, and you will start with that."

"Aye-aye," he says, and Li gives him another weird look - right, idioms, Hermann's always yelling at him for speaking a secret language designed to defeat their multilingual colleagues - "I mean, um, sure, do you have any tools?"

A beleaguered-looking guy with a blue-spattered t-shirt hustles over with a toolbox. It's pretty basic but it'll do. He cracks the chassis and the machine's kind of a patch-job already, lots of weird soldering and criss-crossed wires. Poor thing. Well, the Milking Machine was never really intended for volume, not like they must turn around here, plus there are some pretty heavy modifications, and anyway, he can kind of gut it.

People are giving him suspicious looks but he kind of tunes them out because he knows what he's doing, ok, he invented the damn thing, and if they're looking to keep it going it's going to need some serious work. "This is for purifying and drying, right? I mean, just so I get it working right, don't look at me like that, I don't care about your state secrets, dude, but this has been seriously modified, so..."

Li gives an offended sniff. "Yes, for purifying and drying. The desired product is powder suitable for pressing into tablet form, which you would not need to know if you had not completely disassembled my machine."

"Ok, yeah, no, that was need-to-know because when was the last time you looked into this thing? It's held together with bailing wire and dreams." Li just shakes her head at him and stomps away because she totally knows he's right. 

It's kind of cathartic, tinkering around, doing machine design. Whoever rigged this thing up has half a brain, at least, because it's got a really cool little heating mechanism, but just a few little tweaks'll speed it up by half.

There. Done. He's kind of sad about it, honestly, machine work is the best, but he waves Li over and she heaves a big grey hose into the goop-tub and hooks the other end into Newt's new-and-improved Powderizer. "Careful," and Li gives him a hard look. "I just mean, it'll go like twice as fast as it used to, so." That earns him a narrow-eyed glare, but Li cautiously flips the switch and the thing whirs to life - ok, fine, there's one tiny little cough of smoke, but it's not like he had time and tools to clean all of the dust and gunk out of there, and it's not like it's hurting anything - and a little whirlwind of powder deposits into the exit tray. Li flips the switch and some assistant snatches the try up, runs it through a crazy-looking little scanner setup in the corner. Assistant-guy says something in Cantonese and Li gives him a terse nod. "Acceptable. Supervise it, please," and so Newt's stuck watching his new mechanical baby work through the impressively large tub of goop. It's fast but it's not that fast, and now the fun part's over and this is honestly pretty boring, so, "What do you even use this stuff for?" and nobody answers him, so he pops his head around the side of the machine. "Li? Seriously, adipose? What...?"

Li is totally refusing to look up from whatever she's slicing up over there. "Li," he whines, "Liiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii."

"Ugh," and JJ's chuckling at the poor lady. "Are you never silent?"

"The answer to that's 'oh, hell, no,'" and that's totally helpful, _Jezebel._

Li sighs and snaps her gloves off, stomps over to peer at the powder tray. "It is for weight-loss tablets," she says, shooting a challenging glare at a hatband guy, and, oops, maybe he's getting her in trouble?

"Whatever, I'm on staff now," he stage-whispers and Li shakes her head at him. "But seriously, that's hilarious. What? It's fat, eating fat to lose fat, how does that make _any sense_?"

"Two thousand bucks a bottle from my guy on Park Avenue," and, wow, how does a guy like Hannibal Chau sneak so effectively? Hannibal claps a hand on his arm, wrinkles his nose. "What did you get into, kid," he grouses, fishing around for a handkerchief, pawing at it with his clasping-hand. "The hell? Is this greasepaint?"

"Something like that, yeah? Apparently gold's a thing this season, they gave me scales, it was awesome!" And Hannibal's kind of goggling at him, that was totally a checked double-take.

Newt grins up at him. "No, seriously, here," and he digs around for his phone, calls up one of the proofs Crowsley'd sent around. "Look, they totally gave me kaiju scales. Well, and Louis Vuitton print, but, still, pretty boss."

Hannibal kind of chuckle-frowns. "And you didn't scrub it the hell off before putting your paws all over my merchandise?"

"I did, kinda? But I was running late, and it didn't soap off so great, and I figured..."

"Holy jeez, you're a disaster," Hannibal grumbles and kind of tows him toward the side of the room, pushes open a heavy wood door. JJ starts up out of her chair, but Hannibal gives her a hard look. JJ settles back down but does "I'm watching you" fingers which makes even Hannibal laugh because she is _awesome._

Then they're back in the dim little room where he did his washing-up last time around. Hannibal presses a meaty thumb to one of the carvings and - ok, this is cool, so cool, this is some Wayne Manor stuff, because a piece of the wall swivels around to reveal a little medicine cabinet. Hannibal fishes out a jar and smears some of whatever's in it on his hand, wipes it off with the clean-ish side of his handkerchief. Then he's holding his hand up to his face, right up next to the goggles. He mutters something swear-like, whips his goggles off and that nasty glare is just daring Newt to comment. He's not an idiot, so he holds up surrender hands and Hannibal turns his glare on his own palm. "Christ, kid, there's still glitter on here."

"At least it matches your color scheme?" and Hannibal snorts at him but scoops out another dollop of the creme stuff and tosses the jar to Newt, which he totally catches with a minimum of bobbling, so shut up, Giggles-the-Gangster.

Newt obligingly rubs some creme on his wrists and hands, but Hannibal's _looming_ at him and grumbling, "All of it, moron, what part of I'm not sellin' glitter-pills don't you understand," and then - ouch, what, Hannibal's hauling his shirt off by means of yanking up really hard on the neck, which Newt was not even a little bit expecting, so he kind of crashes into the guy, and there's a great deal of struggling and dropping of jars of creme and stomping on big feet before the shirt's off.

He kind of levers off Hannibal, and "Joke's on you, dude, there's glitter all over your jacket now," and that murderous look is ruined by the little grin Hannibal can't hold back. 

"Just clean yourself up," he mutters, kicking half-heartedly at Newt when he drops down to grab the creme, which somehow landed right-side-up.

The arms and shoulders are not so hard, but he's not the stretchiest guy, and Hannibal's staring at him which is kind of making him nervous, and since when can anybody reach their whole back anyway? "Cripes, kid, how do they let you out in the world," Hannibal grouses, shedding his jacket and flipping open his shift cuffs with a fastidious little flourish.

Then - wow, that's a weird feeling, hands all over his back, big, rough hands slathering cold creme around none too gently. "Hold still, Jesus," Hannibal gripes, and it tickles like anything, so Newt's kind of cracking up, which causes Hannibal to snap him with a towel which, party-foul, because that snap had some _zip_ to it. 

"Ow!" he yelps. "Hey, why do you even have glitter-removal stuff, is there something you want to share with the class?"

"Shut it," Hannibal grumbles, but towels Newt down relatively gently. "Where's your bag? This shirt's shot," he says, eyeing the admittedly greasy-gold undershirt on the floor.

"Uh, about that, I kind of thought I'd just change tomorrow when I ran back to base for my brain scans, so I didn't exactly pack clean clothes."

Hannibal shakes his head, passes a hand over his eyes. "Gross, jeez, kid."

"Hey!" Unfair. Totally unfair. "I brought clean socks and underwear!"

That earns him a sigh-laugh and Hannibal pauses to grab a clean towel and slings it around Newt's shoulders before marching to the door and kicking it open. "Someone find this head-case a clean shirt," he barks through the door, and there's - wow, that's, at least three separate people are laughing at him.

And then Hannibal's whirling around, sauntering up awfully close. "Lord above, it's in your god damn hair."

"Nah, that's extensions." And that's... quite a look, actually. "What? It took forever to put them in, and I thought they looked cool so I told them to leave 'em. You don't like?"

Hannibal shakes his head. "How the hell do you live in the world?"

"Awesomely?" And Hannibal laughs and claps him on the shoulder, carefully aiming for the towel. Probably trying to stave off further glitter poisoning but that ship has _definitely_ sailed.

"So, Li's had you workin' on somethin'?"

"Yeah, I fixed up your powder machine for you, and hey, it's twice as fast now!" Hannibal doesn't look too pleased, surprisingly, so, "Which, I thought you'd like, actually, time is money and all that..."

"Yeah, but I'm wonderin' why it took you to get it there," and that's not on.

"Nah, the modifications were actually pretty cool, so I was standing on the shoulders of giants, or like, the shoulders of Li, probably, but..."

"Shut up, kid," but Hannibal's shaking his head in a fond sort of way. "You eat yet?"

"Well, no, I was kind of running late so I just came right over, but I grabbed a couple candy bars so I can just take a crack at your other machines if you want?"

Hannibal shakes his head. "Candy bars? Nah, we can do a little better than that. My dinner appointment bailed, and I got some questions for you." Hannibal looks like the kind of guy who likes his meals, so this is probably gonna be great, and he must look jazzed because Hannibal gives him a little shake. "Don't get too excited, kid, I'm just callin' for takeout."

"That's still a step up from government cafeteria food, dude," and Hannibal snorts at him.

Then somebody's hustling in with a red-gold shirt. Newt shrugs it on, sort of - it's got a bunch of weird clasps on the front, and he kind of fumbles with them for a little bit before Hannibal sighs and slaps his hands away, doing them up all smoothly.

"What? Some of us just have buttondowns like normal people," Newt grumbles and Hannibal pokes him hard in the belly. "Oof!" Because that seriously sort of hurt, and Hannibal takes advantage of his lack of wind to pull the clasps shut over his belly, where they are admittedly sort of straining. Hannibal mutters something, and "What? It's not like I had time to hit the gym when I was _saving the world through the power of science,_ " and that gets him an outright laugh, so score? And also score one for the weird clasps, because it's a tight fit but they have enough give that it'll work, at least until nobody's paying attention and he can kind of vent the tummy-area.

"You are the ever-loving end, punk," but Hannibal's voice is warm and he's pretty gentle about hauling Newt back into the workroom. "Hey, you," and he's looking at Jezebel, "I'm gonna take the runt here to the dining room for a bite to eat, alright?"

"I'll join you," and that doesn't sound like a request _at all._

"Thought we were keepin' this civil," Hannibal growls, and Jezebel makes a face.

"Fine, fine, but if he's not back in an hour we're calling it off."

"I hear you," and Hannibal sounds distinctly pissed-off but, hey, this is not even Newt's fault. "C'mon, punk," and that cuff's a little on the mean side but, hey, takeout in a secret crime-slash-dining lair. Awesome, objectively.

"Lead on, MacDude," and this cuff's a lot gentler, at least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG! This is an exciting time in Newt/Hannibal land because the fics in our little tag outnumber the kaiju that made lanfdfall! That is clearly the most righteous possible statistic!
> 
> Anyway! Apologies for the delay on this one. It's been kind of a crazy week! Long weekends make for high-volume weeks, somehow. Ugh.
> 
> HOWEVER. I had so much fun writing this chapter because SLEEPOVER TIMES and JEZEBEL JONES and SLIGHTLY LESS SLOW BUILD and CAPSLOCK GENERALLY. Why does Hannibal have handy access cold-creme? INQUIRING MINDS WANT TO KNOW. Excited mind(s) also want to thank the heck out of you, because seriously, I have never had such fun and inspiring fandom conversations as I've got going on here. You folks are the absolute best, and this is the absolute most fun I have had in *ages.* I really hope you enjoy and please chime in if you have any thoughts/questions/criticisms/surprise comment fics (and PS - everyone should go check out hydeisawake's hilarious Hermann-elbowing-Newt art on Tumblr immediately)! XOXOXO!!
> 
> PS: Um, as a hazard of posting at like 2 in the morning, I had a few editing fails that I have tried to go back and tweak. Sorry about that! Won't happen again, and hope you're enjoying!


	8. Stuffed and Mounted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Timing: This is set immediately after Chapter 7 (still 8 days post V-K Day)

Newt stumbles to a stop, and he doesn't even mind that Hannibal runs into him as a result, even if stumbling from the force of it's probably killing his cool, because this room is _something else._ There's still all kinds of gold and crazy woodwork, but that's par for the course for this place. This room is next level, though, taxidermied heads of lions and tigers and bears oh my snarling down from the walls, and even from the backs of some of the big chairs around an honest-to-god solid gold table - and, wow, something like that is probably custom no matter what, but there's some crazy intricate metalwork in Hannibal's symbol, stretching across the whole tabletop. There's even a white tiger rug tossed in front of the big gold fireplace - and that's seriously illegal, those things are, like, beyond endangered, and, wow, geez, that's another one of them, in fact it's probably two or three skins even if it's only the one head, stitched together to form one seriously intimidating chair at the head of the table. Whoever sits there - and he's bet a dollar it's Hannibal and nobody else - gets to drape their hands over clawed paws on the armrests. _Awesome._ Awful? No, awesome, in a maybe sort of slightly awful way. "Ok, confess, you're actually a Bond villain," and he didn't actually mean to say that out loud.

Hannibal chuckles. "Like it?" and oh, that's a smug tone. "Gotta have a trophy room."

"A trophy room?" Newt repeats, faint and dumb, but, wow, give him a minute, here.

A big hand tightens on Newt's shoulder. "Yeah. They're all my kills. That bastard -" and he gestures at the head on the tiger-chair - "fought like the tiger she was. Got a good swipe in on my side. Last mistake she ever made." Newt turns and just kind of stares. Hannibal smirks at him. "Don't look so shocked, punk. What did you think I did before the kaiju?"

"Crime stuff?" he offers, and Hannibal shakes his head indulgently.

"'Crime stuff,' he says. Guess you're right. Big game 'crime stuff.' Lemme tell you, the kaiju killed the market for bear paws, and thank god for that. Russia's a bitch to hunt in, an' you can't trust anybody in the damn place, either. Always skimmin' off the top. And the Chinese farms aren't worth a damn. Hard to keep a couple dozen brown bears quiet."

There's so much, he can't even focus on one thing, and oh, right, people are talking. "I bet," and there we go, that's at least a little more suave.

Hannibal still chuckles at him, though, throws out an arm. "Go ahead, kid, take a look around."

Who's gonna resist an offer like that? Geez Louise, there must be dozens of specimens in here. Leopards - is that a snow leopard? Seriously, what? And an alligator? Sure enough, and at least one Nile croc with suspiciously intact teeth. No way those are original. There's even a panther, stuffed whole and glaring from the top of the mantlepiece.

"They're all apex predators," he muses, apparently out loud because that draws Hannibal right up behind him, pressing close to get the reach he needs to run a proprietary hand over the panther.

"Not the top of the food chain, though," Hannibal purrs, face right there over Newt's shoulder, and he's flashing his teeth in a vicious grin that sets off Newt's run-away-run-away instincts. He's pretty sure he didn't shiver, though. Well, mostly sure.

He straightens up anyway, just because, even if it does kind of scrape him against Hannibal. "I guess not," he says, and so what if his stupid traitor voice is just a teeny bit on the squeaky side?

Hannibal laughs, palms Newt's bicep. "C'mon. Foods' gettin' cold," and, right, dinner.

"I didn't even hear it come in," Newt confesses.

Hannibal shakes his head. "Stick to the science, kid, you got no survival instincts to speak of."

Which, unfair. "What, like you're gonna let someone sneak in and stab me in the middle of your villainous doom-lair," he grumbles.

Hannibal shakes his head, half-grinning, but otherwise ignores that, just kind of hauling Newt along. He pulls out a shaggy white chair next to the Tiger Doom Throne and apparently Newt's not quick enough on the jump because Hannibal gives him a gentle shove toward the thing - polar bear, it must be, holy crap. It takes a little bit of scrambling to hoist himself up in there; the seat's way high, high enough that Newt's feet only brush the ground if he points his toes. He's an adult cool-guy scientist so he's not going to swing his feet. Well, no, he's totally going to do it, but not until Hannibal's sitting down and can't see so clearly.

Except there's a flaw in this genius plan, because he kicks Hannibal in the shins on the first swing and gets himself a vicious pinch for his trouble. "Simmer down, bucko." Newt kind of grumbles and Hannibal snorts, presses a pair of ornate gold chopsticks into his hands. "Hope you like dumplings."

"Love 'em," he says, and stabs a chopstick into the container at random.

"You got no god damn manners," Hannibal sighs, pushing a plate over in front of Newt pointedly.

"Whatever, manners are for people who ate lunch today," and Hannibal shakes his head before kind of cocking it in a considering way. He reaches up, tugs his goggles off smoothly, and Newt knows enough to know that he's better off to be real interested in his dumplings than whatever's going on there. It's kind of weird, though, that Hannibal sat Newt on his bad side, the scarred eye - oh, wait, but that means he's got his good eye on the door, which, why, maybe intra-lair stabbing is an actual concern that they have? Or maybe Hannibal's just paranoid. This room would do it. It's incredibly baller, so very baller, don't get him wrong, but it does make him feel like something's on the verge of gobbling him up while he's distracted by dumplings.

Anyway. He takes a big bite of his dumpling and, yuck, what, what is even going on in there. It's too weird to spit it out right in front of Hannibal, even if he kind of wants to, because there's something really slimy in there and he was not expecting that, thank you very much. He kind of shakes the rest of it off the end of his chopstick and Hannibal snorts at him, reaches over the steal the rest of the dumpling with flawless two-chopstick technique. "What, you don't like abalone?"

"I wasn't expecting it," Newt defends, and leans over to steal his dumpling back. Hannibal kind of traps Newt's chopstick between his two, which is not gonna fly, and in the ensuing tugging war the dumpling flies out to land on the table. "Ten-second rule!" Newt crows, and stuffs the rest of the dumpling in his mouth with his fingers before Hannibal can react. It tastes like victory. Slimy, slimy victory.

Hannibal's chuckling and shaking his head. "No god damn manners," he repeats, and ok, fine, maybe Newt had kind of surreptitiously wiped his hand off on his pants, but Hannibal can't be too mad because he's transferring a bunch of dumplings onto Newt's plate. "These're pork-n-chive, for the wussies."

And that's just no fair. "I'm not a wussy," Newt gripes, but it's not like he's turning down pork dumplings. These are really good, actually, some kind of funny spice happening and maybe there's dumpling sauce somewhere around here? "I just wasn't expecting that, which, hello, who eats abalone dumplings?"

"They're the house special," Hannibal grunts, slapping at Newt's questing hand, but he does push over a container of weirdly thick-looking dumpling sauce.

Ok, there's definitely something up with this sauce. It's viscous, kind of, and there's unidentified chunks of things floating in it that somehow don't cling to the outside of the dumplings. He's kind of afraid to drip on the gold table, though, and so maybe it's better to just stuff the whole thing in his mouth at once? Wow, there's kind of a lot going on in there, and he's not sure he likes it - definitely doesn't hold a candle to the guy with the cart outside the Shatterdome. "This is rich-guy takeout," Newt accuses.

Hannibal snorts, carefully selecting a dumpling from his plate. "Yeah, well, I'm a rich guy."

"I can't argue with that, dude, but dumplings are the people's food." He stabs another dumpling with a lone chopstick and hauls it up toward his mouth fast enough that it can't slide off. He's not seriously complaining - these are pretty good, actually, but still, it's the principle of the thing.

Hannibal's snorting at him, but the set of his mouth's soft. "The people who can use chopsticks, you mean?"

"Shut up, dumplings are totally a stabbing food and let's not pretend you can't get behind stabbing as an institution."

Hannibal laugh-chokes, goes fishing for a paper napkin. "You sure you wanna remind me of that, kid?"

"Whatever, you don't even want to stab me when you can get work out of me instead," and Hannibal laughs at him some more, steals the dumpling sauce.

"Yeah, you're real useful. I got what, an hour out of you today?"

Newt brandishes a chopstick at him. "That's your own fault, dude, dinner break wasn't _my_ idea." Hannibal slaps at his shoulder, but it's light, and, well, "and besides, it's not like you've been making the most of me." Hannibal narrows his eyes at that, which, yeah, that came out wrong? "I mean, whatever, you're the boss, I'm happy to tinker and watch machines work if you want me to, but your guys have a pretty good handle on that stuff, and I can do _more._ "

"And yet every time I turn you loose somethin' almost blows up," but he doesn't look like he means it, not really, so Newt sticks his tongue out at him. "Christ, kid," but he's chuckling. He takes a bite of dumpling, looks at Newt sideways in a considering kind of way. "Think shark fin's too much for you?"

That... doesn't exactly sound delicious, but let no one say Newt Geiszler is not up for a challenge. "Not even," he says, and Hannibal kind of waves his chopsticks a little. Well, that's gonna be tricky, but....

Ok, fine, maybe his skills are a little rusty, but the structural integrity of this dumpling has already been compromised and it's not exactly easy to take half a dumpling from somebody else mid-air, ok? "How long you been livin' in Hong Kong, kid, Jesus," and he's laughing and tugging the dumpling out of reach. Never say die - he's gonna get that dumpling if he has to reduce it to paste, which is looking to be a very real possibility. Hannibal swirls his chopsticks, and maybe he's teasing but that's totally a bitch move.

"Hey," Newt squawks, and Hannibal smirks and him but leans in to hold the dumpling pretty near Newt's mouth.

"Can't even feed yourself," and Hannibal's smirking but Newt leans in to suck up the shark-fin dumpling anyway, glaring all the while because he can feed himself, just not when jerks give him a moving target, ok?

This is.... better than the abalone? Still, he won't be ordering it anytime soon. It's kind of tough as a dumpling filler, and... Oof, yeah, that's his phone, now all souped-up with an industrial-strength vibrate function so that he can't forget, thanks Tendo.

He must have squeaked or something because, "You can spit it out if you wanna, kid," and Newt shakes his head. He doesn't want to give Hannibal a see-food special, so he shoves a hand in front of his mouth and mumbles, "Nah, just my phone going off, which, sorry, but I better check it in case everybody's freaking out again."

Hannibal makes a mean face and mutters something about the surveillance state which is pretty hilarious but he can't really laugh around this really hard-to-swallow mouthful of dumpling, and which pocket is his phone in... Yeah, there we go. It's just a text, actually, but it's from JJ, so. _Ping me if you need an adult._ it says, and what is that even supposed to mean?

 _I am an adult,_ he fires back, and there's a really quick return buzz.

 _Allegedly. I'm just saying, that man is giving you the eye, so..._ and wow, this is a disaster, a really epic disaster, because Hannibal is way faster than he has any right to be and he's reached out, stolen Newt's phone, and is _reading his texts_ , can Newt maybe just have a stroke and die before he has to deal with the consequences of this? But no, of course not, so, "Uh, sorry about that, she's..."

Hannibal's smile has way too many teeth. "She's right, I am."

"You are?" And that doesn't really make any sense.

"Givin' you the eye, kid, keep up," and before Newt has time to process that there's a hand on his thigh and another shoving at the back of his head and he's sort of falling into Hannibal, clutching at his arm to avoid sprawling off the chair, and, wow, yeah, Newt's being kissed, which, what, and he kind of gasps and.. Yes, that's.... tongue, that's a lot of tongue in his mouth, and the shock of it makes him kind of gasp again, which brings his own tongue in contact with something weird and funny-tasting, metallic - that must be Hannibal's grill - geez, it's on the back of the teeth, too, that thing goes really high up, and ow, Hannibal's kind of yanking Newt's head back with a handful of hair. "Stop doin' whatever it is you're doin'."

"How far back does your grill go?" and that was not the plan, but Hannibal's smiling in a not-especially-murderous fashion, so, great.

A big thumb drags down Newt's cheek. "You really wanna play twenty questions right now?"

"Not really," and way to be cool, Newt, that was super-breathy, but Hannibal seems to like it, tugs him back in. This time it goes a little more smoothly, maybe because it's less crazy-sudden, and maybe because Hannibal's kind of taking his time, nibbling at Newt's bottom lip and there's that tongue again but he's ready for it this time and tries to work with it, not just forging right back into Hannibal's mouth, and wow, Hannibal's a really good kisser, this is kind of awesome, even if he is being stabbed in the elbow with what is very probably a tiger claw and also he's kind of sliding off his chair, and you know what, he could probably solve both of these problems by just climbing on Hannibal's lap. But that big hand's tugging him off by the hair again and hands, where are the hands going, oh, into his vest, which, that's going to be complicated in this position, but no, Hannibal's just fishing for his phone, and maybe Newt should get it together and sit up or something but it's easier to just kind of stay draped over Hannibal and try to let his brain catch up with what just happened here. "Believe me, I don't wanna but I've got to take this," and Hannibal's voice makes his chest rumble in a way that sends weird electricity shooting up Newt's spine. There's a hand tugging at the back of his shirt, and Newt slumps up - moving, right, he can do that. "Which means you gotta get off me."

"Right," he agrees faintly, and Hannibal's chuckle is a whole new kind of deep now, and shut up, so what if it gives Newt the shivers.

Hannibal definitely noticed, reaches out to drag a slow finger under Newt's jaw. "Too bad I can't trust you to stay quiet even when your mouth's busy," and, wow, yeah, it's not even voluntary, the way Newt's eyes fly to Hannibal's crotch which is, tragically, obscured by a crumpled-up napkin.

"Dirty," Hannibal purrs, sort of stroking at Newt's jaw, letting his hand drag down to Newt's shoulder. Hannibal uses the leverage to kind of maneuver Newt back into his own chair and he's going to get it together any second now, ok, and then Hannibal's reaching back into his vest, this time coming up with a little notebook. "That'll keep you busy," he rumbles and gives Newt's face an affectionate little slap, presses the notebook into his hands.

Right. He's just gonna... take a moment. Except that's not a great plan because his brain's starting to come back online, and _what the hell is happening here._ Maybe he does, uh, need an adult? Except that's probably the kind of thing that ends in knife fights and is he a gangster's moll now, and maybe that would be kind of excellent, actually, and wait, you know what, he's going to worry about this later and focus on the notebook because... because reasons, ok? He risks a look at Hannibal, but he's moved into the corner, faced away from Newt and into a crazy stuffed grizzly that he hadn't even noticed before...

Yeah, no. Notebook. He's focusing on the notebook now, because must be pretty good if it's supposed to distract him... And wow, ok, the cover reads, "Regeneration and regrowth results," so, yeah, that's got his attention. And wowie zowie, rest of the notebook's gonna keep it because this is someone's lab notebook, and those numbers are insane - the live-wire sample, it must be, the measurements match up with what he remembers yesterday except for that volume chart because, wow, if this is even close to accurate that thing is growing at near-exponential rates. That can't be right - if it is, the sample's approaching the size of the intact stomach. How long.... The latest entry has a time notation at something like 5:30, so just before Newt turned up... This is big. This is _huge_. Literally. And then he's kind of bouncing in his chair which is.... really uncomfortable, actually, and oh, wait, right, this is his life, he's got like half a stiffy which is pretty awkward because no matter what Hermann implies he doesn't actually get science boners - that was _one time_ and there were _circumstances_ and, wait, no, time's up because Hannibal's headed back over.

He gets out of his chair because it seems like the thing to do, and speaking of the thing to do, what is he supposed to say now, and first things first, maybe, because, "Ok, so where are you even hiding..."

Hannibal laughs, kind of deep and private. "Funny thing is, I don't even know where you're gonna go with that, sex or science."

That's foul play, totally a trick question, and "Both?" he tries, which draws an outright laugh out of Hannibal.

"Little weirdo," and there's a hand smoothing through Newt's hair. "This is gonna take a while, so you run along and show that notebook to Li. She'll know what to do."

"Ok," he agrees, and.... that's it? Maybe that's it? It feels like he ought to do something or say something or just something of some kind, and Hannibal's resting a hand on his lower back, propelling him toward the door.

"Relax, kid," and Newt wriggles in outrage because _seriously,_ and then he's being spun around and, oh, hand, there's a hand on his ass, there's a hand squeezing his ass, actually, fingers slipping right between the cheeks and who knew there was such a thing as a sexy wedgie? A hot puff of breath on his neck is all the warning he gets before Hannibal just... fastens teeth in, right there, at the corner of his jaw, ow, but also wow, and "Uuuuuf," just kind of slips right out of him and that's not his proudest moment, maybe, but Hannibal pets his hair back and growls, "Good boy," and, wow, yeah, that... is really sexier than he would have thought it would be? Then he's being spun around again and the door's opening and he's totally going to say something awesome but Hannibal swats his ass, hard and fast, and closes the door on the stupid little yelp that caused.

"What," and good, thats good, he sounds sort of angry and not freaked out even though the henchlady who has been loitering in the hall is not doing a very good job of hiding her smile. But she hands him a mirror and yeah, he'd better straighten himself out a little, so maybe she's kind of ok? Unlike, oh yeah, his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All right, fine, so the chapter title's an overpromise. I couldn't help it - the taxidermy pun cried out to me. :P
> 
> But yeah. I am REALLY SUPER EXCITED about this chapter, and I hope you are too (*eyebrow waggle* - we are totally there). Thanks for sticking it out for, oh, almost 30k before there was even any kissing! Even if it's kind of failboat kissing, but Newt is himself, and is not exactly Mr. Smooth, especially when he's surprised.
> 
> Ugh. Sometimes I feel a little constrained by Newt's POV (but not that often! because it's super-fun to write and so high energy that it makes me feel all high energy by osmosis) but one thing I didn't think he'd notice but that I totally theorize is that Hannibal de-goggles himself because lots of dumpling places sort of dye the dumpling shells so you can tell what you're getting without seeing the filling for yourself. The one in my 'hood puts this seriously nasty pink in the chicken ones - it's sort of lung-colored, and I mostly have to close my eyes to overcome. :P Anyway, poor Mr. Chau's vision's not so good, so he's got to get the dark glasses out of the way to sort his dinner! That is my unnecessary head-canon author's note tidbit dujour.
> 
> PS: Eeee, I always want to thank like every single person in these things, which I hope I manage to kind of pull off, and right at the moment my brain's catching on Selkie3, because I definitely added in "killer" and then edited out that line and arghhhhh. It's such a Newtism! It's coming! But yes. Thank you guys so much for your comments and critiques! I think I'm getting better as I go along, and it's very much down to what is clearly a collaborative process. Seriously, so many good ideas sparked off by exchanges in the comment section. Why are you so awesommmme. it's a mystery even science cannot solve!


	9. Secrets and Lairs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Timing: This is set immediately after Chapter 8 (still 8 days post V-K Day)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning, sort of?: There's some dub-con type kissing lurking around in here.

Somebody had better give him some observation training or something, because he's pretty sure he's read stuff about people being able to tell how big a building is and all of the exit routes and all that jazz from looking around while they walk through it, but all he's getting from this walk is "just a couple minutes' walk" and "a lot of doors" and "well, no sense looking for exits because nobody but nobody probably makes a run for it out of this place" and "how does that henchlady outpace people in normal shoes when her shoes are basically stilts-n-strings." Maybe the answer to that last one is "the people in normal shoes are kind of trying to read and walk." Anyway, he's not exactly optimizing his intel potential. If they even need intel? Whatever. And ok, fine, maybe he's freaking out a little. His brain's kinda vibrating around trying to fix on all of this data and the little ache by his jaw and there's a lot, ok There's just a lot going on, and all he knows is that nobody's prying this notebook out of his hands, not even Hannibal... except maybe Hannibal, actually? And, oof, maybe he just needs to _get it together_ but enough of his mind is fixed on data, data, data that he's not missing out too much and maybe part of that capacity is needed to get it together, actually, and anyway, here's the main floor and now what he's gonna do is look really, totally normal and go find Li and not look at Jezebel Jones because what if she has freaky Sherlock Holmes deduction powers and what if he has a lovebite under his jaw and just _argh._

Which, apparently that was an argh out loud, because Li is giggling at him, and Newt can be cool, he can, so he just brandishes the notebook and says "He said you'd know what to do?" and her eyes fly wide so this is probably gonna be good. She reaches for the notebook and nuh-uh, that's his now, and she giggles again when he cradles it against him with both arms. "You can keep it," she assures, and then makes a wait-here sort of gesture and darts around the floor, checking equipment and barking instructions he can't understand at people and he's really going to bump "learn Cantonese" up the priority list because what if it's not all just instructions and what are the instructions anyway? Anyway. Observation. He's got this. They must be going somewhere, to get Li all hepped up like this, and JJ must think so too because she's up out of her chair and looming at him. "Hi?" he manages, and she gives him a narrow-eyed look.

"Hi yourself," and she's... That's a look, that's a mutant-spy-powers look, and Newt narrowly resists the temptation to clap a hand up over his jaw. "How was dinner?" and that's a fake-calm tone, for sure.

"Dumplingy," he says shortly, and tries to smile but it feels wrong on his face, too stretchy, and JJ's eyes are narrowing again and shut up, Newt, talking is probably not going to help here, which thank god there's Li, gesturing them to the right. Turns out some of the wood panelling pries up so she can tap an access card against it and the walls push open into a weirdly sterile-looking hallway, lots of metal, steel instead of gold. He takes the lab coat that Li presses on him, turns to fumble it on one-handed because nobody's taking the notebook, and there's weird motion noises behind him. Sure enough, some of the steel's parting, sounds like hydraulics. And...

"Oh wow," he breathes, because there she is, Miss America. That must be his baby, the live-wire sample, all grown up. It looks like... In fact, no, preliminary visuals suggest that it _is_ an intact primary stomach, kind of pulsing and roiling and the membrane's thin enough to show the mass of sensor-tubes waving around in there. He'll need to check his diagrams but they look thicker, denser than they had originally. There's a monitor, big old font on this one, maybe because it's so high off the ground, but it's easy to read and the electrical numbers are still off the charts - just shy of five miliamps. Baby's packing a _punch._ And wait, maybe he said all of that out loud, because why else is Li cracking up?

Wait, ok, fine, maybe it's because he's kind of stroking the tank with his free hand, because this is crazy, this is nothing like they've ever seen. "The other sample? The one that was still live?" Li smiles at him, all superior and amused, but seriously, she's a scientist, "How are you not flipping out right now?"

"I have had all day to get used to it," and that's kind of fair, but she's shifting her weight around, not playing it so cool after all. "Here, look, the other sample, it's.... Well."

Yes, 'well.' There's growth there, massive amounts, but nothing coherent. It's a twisted mass, twitching weakly, a little motion from the sensor-tubes but not much in the way of regeneration. There's a little indication that the growth had been toward the end of re-forming an esophagus, maybe a little bit of stomach structure? "This was from higher up the throat?" and Li nods. Interesting. "Huh. Healing factor concentrated in the storage area, that seems clear. Why?"

Li purses her lips. "Energy is difficult to generate?"

"Yeah, ok, but if it's electricity that's causing this effect... What have you got from Otachi, anything weird, hard to explain? Because I'll bet you a dollar that if Leatherback can produce an EMP... Well, anyway, it's just possible Otachi had something keeping the current flowing." But wait. Nope. That doesn't jibe. "Except there was nothing... Nothing we got from Gypsy's sensors indicate a shock effect..."

"Perhaps it was too difficult to optimize for weapons use, but could be activated if the storage function was compromised," Li suggests.

And yeah, yeah, that shakes something loose in his head. "Unless they were counting on - if Otachi damaged a Jaeger - or even if she got shot, there's a hell of a lot of juice in a plasma cannon - maybe that's what would set Otachibi loose? But then why didn't it activate when..." He smacks his forehead. "That's why. Coolant, blunt force, the chain-sword... Nothing electric, nothing much, anyway. The plasma cannons were out of juice before Gipsy even got to Otachi." And wow, that's just... Wow. "I think maybe we got really, really lucky."

Li taps a pen to her lips, thoughtful. "I think you may be right. But if the Jaeger was an intended catalyst..."

"Then why does this thing react to human tissue? Huh." His fingers are tapping, staccato on the tank, and oh, wow, there's a definite bulge towards his hand. Damn, the thing's still got amazing reactivity, even this long after harvest. "I think... They're smart, right, they knew the Jaegers were manned, I got that much from them. Maybe they want to keep whatever they can get, they know what'll melt a Jaeger and they can guess it'll take a hell of a lot less to liquidate whoever's inside."

Li narrows her eyes. "An intriguing theory. Think of the activity spikes when we added instrumentation to the tanks. And think of the lesser samples. There was growth, yes, and some residual physical reaction in other samples that lacked this capacity to heal. Have you seen a scan of... of Otachibi?" And she says that like it pains her, so he gives her a shit-eating grin because everyone will succumb to his awesome naming powers.

"No, but I really, really want to," he says, and Li makes a little flutter-motion with her hands.

"I will get it for you, but it is... very unusual. Lots of muscle for motion, many different means of locomotion. I had thought it might be simply related to Otachi - a strong swimmer, fast over land, flight-capable. But now I am thinking..."

"That she was built to run back to the Breach faster than we could catch her," Newt breathes. Wow. That is... seriously specialized. And explains some things, actually, explains a lot of things, because it's not like the Drift gives you a whole life story, and Otachibi's brain had been nothing but Breach, Breach, Breach. Holy shit. Holy shit. If that's true - and it's a hell of a working theory - if that's true, then his luck's pure gold because he picked just the right kaiju to Drift with to get the info they needed. He whistles. "Son of a bitch."

Li's tugging at his sleeve, lots of diagrams in her hands. They're clearly Otachibi - found mostly intact, it seems, which jibes with the theory that she was meant to be a little more durable than your average disintegrating kaiju; the rest of them start dissolving into Kaiju Blue right off the bat. In fact... "Did we get any Kaiju Blue off of Otachibi at all?"

"No," Li confirms, and yeah, they are really on to something here. He takes the diagrams, and she's still tugging on his sleeve, why... Wait, no, other sleeve. He tugs back, and JJ gives his shirt a good yank. "What, not now, it's science time now, we can talk about how I made out with Hannibal Chau when I'm not..."

And JJ growls, "Aw, hell," and yanks even harder on his sleeve. "We're definitely talking about that later. But now - yes _now_ \- where is your phone?"

"Oh, uh, why?" he says, but pats his pockets obligingly with the hand that isn't clutching Li's diagrams. They're sort of flat, no phone, and where... "Oh right," and this is probably not so good. "I, uh, I kind of accidentally left it with Hannibal?"

"What?" and JJ is _not pleased._

So, moving along, "It's your fault," and that glare could kill a guy, "Well, kind of? You texted during dinner, and then he kind of snatched it, and then I was kinda, um, distracted? But seriously, what did you think..."

"I'm going to kill you," JJ enunciates, but she drops his arm, and he can hear her back there dialing up someone on her own phone.

Whatever. He'll worry about that at some other time, some time when he doesn't have the most deliciously intact diagrams of a full, mostly-undamaged kaiju he's ever seen. Which is a bitch, actually, because he's been able to make some educated guesses about musculoskeletal structure, but most of the information he's got is partial and badly skewed by the kind of tissue damage that a Jaeger inflicts in the takedown. Still, that's a hell of a lot of muscle mass packed into a small area and...

"I'm talking to you, Geiszler," and that sounds like JJ. It sounds like _really pissed JJ_ actually, and so he actually turns and makes an effort to focus on her.

"Yeah?" and her face does this weird thing, pissed and kind of... actually kind of fond-looking.

"You know what? Never mind." That's worth a grateful smile, because seriously he hasn't got bandwidth for anything other than this unreal wealth of information right now. The detail's crazy, and he settles right down on the floor, the better to spread out the diagrams around him. Crazy dorsal musculature, and that's quite something in terms of power in the hindquarters.... And something's bugging him. Oh, right, JJ and Li, arguing over something in the background, seems like, not urgent...

Except it kind of is urgent, because Li stomps over and starts rolling up diagrams, and Newt makes grabby hands but she slaps at him and, what, just... "Li, seriously..."

"Talk to her," and a j'accuse arm shoots toward JJ. "She must make a call, she must make many calls, and her phone is odd and it is interfering with my equipment and she will not consent to leave you to your work."

He shoots JJ a betrayed look but there's no room for negotiation in that glare. "Can't I just take these with me?" he tries, and Li shakes her head adamantly.

"These don't leave the library." Which is so unfair, and wait, what, library?

He takes a minute to actually look around and yeah, who had he missed that - oh wait, live-wire stomach, of course he'd missed it - but the whole back wall is shiny steel shelves crammed full of notebooks that look like the one Hannibal gave him, probably a couple hundred at least, and this sound escapes him, a horrible sound that probably only dogs can hear. "I want..."

"When Mr. Chau says you may and not before," says Li grimly, trying her darndest to haul him off the floor by main force. He scrambles up and makes a token grab for the diagrams - Li whacks him on the head with them, but does pause to press his notebook back into his hands - and allows himself to be herded out in the hallway, and 'allows' is sort of a strong word because JJ is steering him with both hands. Li is locking up or something behind them, and JJ tightens her grip a little in a bracing sort of way. 

"You all right?" she asks, and she actually sounds sort of worried.

So he tries to sound calm when he says, "Yeah, I just... I... I... Did you see that brain, JJ, science is not even your deal and yet..." and JJ chuckles and Li's giggling, and they're all bustling out into the workshop. JJ pushes him down in her chair, which seems a lot less throne-like in context, actually. He's sort of grateful, especially because there's a handy table to spread his notebook out on. Except JJ's totally cockblocking him, hand spread over the open pages. "Nuh-uh, Geiszler. So you made out with the guy?"

And so what if he giggles a little hysterically, because that's a pretty crappy attempt at circumspection, and besides that henchlady probably told everyone what she saw. Maybe? Probably? Except maybe Hannibal doesn't like people to know his business, but, oh my god, looking back the guy had actually been pretty blatant in his... interest? Intentions? Oh, geez. Except maybe not because he's just kind of a handsy guy, and maybe this just came up? 

JJ gives him a little shake. "You all right there, champ?"

"Um, yes?" and JJ shakes her head at him, curses a little, which, what, he hasn't done anything - well, he hasn't done anything _right now_ \- but she's just going for her phone.

"Stay put," she orders, pressing him down into the chair for emphasis, and fine, yeah, he can do that. Except it would be optimal if he had a pencil or tablet or something because it would be a lot easier to deal with this data with a little visualization, but nobody's paying much attention to him and that's probably for the best, honestly, and he can work with what he's got. The readings kind of leap off the page, graph or no graph.

He gets kind of lost in it, but not so lost that he misses Hannibal banging into the room. He zeros right in on Newt, which is terrifying because what is he even going to say, but, well, there's a squirmy feeling, the good kind of squirmy, so, yeah.

"Cripes, what happened to him now," Hannibal says, all tired-like.

"Nothing," he says, and hops out of the chair because it seems like the thing to do somehow, except that was kind of ridiculous because it's not like standing puts him in a power position vis-a-vis Mr. Ate-His-Wheaties, but it's too late now. "Nothing happened to me, well, science happened to me, and hey, is JJ off the phone yet, because I have some killer theories to run by you, we should totally go back to that lab..."

Hannibal shakes his head, face all squashed like he's trying not to smile. "Can't believe they pried you out of it in the first place," is all he says.

Newt wriggles to convey the general indignity of the situation. "Yeah, me either, but you try to fight both of them - actually, no, don't try that."

And the smile fights its way onto Hannibal's face, clearly kind of in spite of his best efforts. "What'd you do to get 'em gangin' up on you, chump?" and then his face stills, goes serious. "If I find out you wrecked that lab..."

"No!" and that was... loud. And squeaky. God, why. "No, no, nothing like that, I just... Hey do you have my phone, because apparently that's a problem, and you can't make calls from in there, I guess, and they wouldn't let me stay..."

"Good, 'cause lordy but you need supervision," and Hannibal's reaching out to cup a heavy hand on the back of his neck. Which... Ok, fine, he's never gonna make it as a poker pro because he gets the shivers again, which sets off an outright gleamy-gold smirk. And then, for maximum embarrassment, Hannibal moves his fingers just so, presses on _that spot_ at the corner of his jaw. He doesn't yelp, which he's pretty proud of, honestly, but Hannibal's smirking at him anyway.

"Get a room," and JJ sounds.... remarkably chill, actually.

Hannibal shakes his head, but kind of cups Newt's face assertively. "Got the impression you wouldn't be too thrilled if we did."

"You got that right," and JJ sigh-laughs. "I think you and me had better have a talk."

Hannibal straightens up, and oh yeah, now he's all business. "I'll think about it, if you got any kind of authority to negotiate."

JJ waves her phone. "Got it right here."

"Ok, you guys, this is all very... You know what, I was gonna say very good, but it's not very good, but anyway, it doesn't sound like it involves heading lab-ward and you can't just..."

Hannibal grips at the scruff of Newt's neck. "Calm down, fella, nobody's standin' between you and science while you're on my time," and that's awesome, and Newt kind of involuntary leans into Hannibal's side a little in approval. "Hey. None of that."

And, oh geez, "I wasn't... That is, I didn't mean... That was a thank-you lean, that's all!" and Hannibal chuckles, but he doesn't sound mad, so that's ok?

"Tell you what, we'll set you up in one the phone room, and your little buddy and I'll go to the conference room." He nods at JJ. "It's got a door we can shut on him, but no one gets in or out except through the conference room. That all right?"

This is not, like, even a little bit cool. "Yeah, standing right here," Newt grumbles and Hannibal gives him a little shake.

JJ laughs, shakes her head. "Yeah, ok, but maybe can he have those papers back? Or he really will lose it."

"Papers?" And Hannibal beckons to Li, who skitters over for some kind of furious whisper-conference in Cantonese. JJ is not being even a little subtle about her eavesdropping, but nobody seems to much care, so...

"Yeah, ok, go get 'em," and then Hannibal leans some of his weight on him. "C'mon," he barks, and he's being more or less hauled away.

Yeah, no. "Come on, dude, what about the scans..."

And Hannibal's laughing at him, and kind of tucking him into his side all at once. "Relax. Li's gonna bring you something to work with."

"Ok, but I'm gonna need some paper, and maybe a laptop, and..." And oof, yeah, that's a hard squeeze, a warning sort of squeeze.

"I said relax," is all Hannibal says, mild, but there's kind of a warning in it.

"Fine," and that's only kind of a whine, but everybody's laughing at him anyway.

So much for observation, because he's kind of buried in Hannibal's big arm and can't see where they're going at all, and Li catches them up halfway there. She totally smirks at him when she hands the diagrams over and Newt lets out a sigh just to let everyone know that he is really extremely put-upon. Surprise surprise, nobody cares.

Then there's more dragging until Hannibal pauses, hip-checks a door open, which is a weird process from Newt's position, for sure, and shocker, there's more dark wood and gold and scary low lighting. "I could just sit out here..." he tries, but Hannibal pinches him - ouch, geez! - and JJ kind of laughs, which sucks a lot but fine, he doesn't need their stupid distracting talk anyway, so he allows himself to be towed into a weird little room with a tiny table all covered by an actual phone with a cord and a bunch of piles of scrap paper.

"Hey," he tries, and Hannibal kind of disentangles himself, gives no indication that he is in a room with another human being making noises generally understood to be speech. "Hey, what's going on?"

"Hell if I know, punk," and Newt kind of clutches at Hannibal's hand before he gets away entirely.

"Except you totally do know, and I want to..."

And Hannibal sighs and yanks on the hand Newt's trapped, which makes him sort of stumble right up against Hannibal's front. "Christ, you're noisy. Bet I can shut you up," and that's all the warning he gets before he's being kissed again - well, for some definitions of "kissed" that are more like "mouth-invaded" and he doesn't remember deciding to go up on his toes, and when did he clutch his hands into Hannibal's shirt, but that just makes sense because he needs leverage to balance and... And...

"I can see you," and JJ's voice is cold water that sends Newt stumbling right back down to solid ground.

"I know," Hannibal says, smirking over his shoulder. And then he's cupping Newt's face. "Be good. So help me, if you come out of this room..."

"Yeah, yeah," Newt grumbles, and Hannibal's stepping back and shutting the door on what was clearly going to be a clever retort, and that's becoming, like, a theme that Newt can't say he likes very much.

So. Yes. That happened. Newt scrubs the back of his hand over his mouth, which is sort of tender now, and what. Just... what.

"It's you and me now, baby," he says to the diagrams in his hands, and so what if it's kind of pathetic. Whatever. It's science time, and that he definitely knows how to handle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hooray! You guys. YOU GUYS. I just.... I can't even express the degree of ludicrous happiness that you are causing me with the insanely interesting discussions/comment fic/Pacific Rim squee that I'm having with you all! In all fairness, I feel like I'd best give a shout-out to telm_393 and sierrapapaquebecromeo in particular for this chapter; they have definitely been huge influences on how I'm thinking about the Shatterdome Family and Hannibal Chau, respectively, and if you like characterization natter, man oh man, have they got your back. And that's such an inadequate list, because honestly so many folks have sparked off awesome ideas for me. This is basically a collaboration fic with a few dozen co-authors, which makes me the luckiest girl in the whole USA. I've been trying to make my absurdly grateful state known in the comments as I go but... THANK YOU THANK YOU SO MUCH. This is such a fun, cool, involved fandom experience and I would love to chat with each and every one of you about anything in this fic or in Pacific Rim generally, and I hope you feel the same way because I swear talking in the comments is just as fun as writing this story, which is to say, REAL ULTIMATE FUNNESS. *ninja pose*
> 
> Oh! And also of course feriowind is a diety among humans, but just in case anyone didn't see the world's most amazing Hannibal-headlock painting that went up the other day, may I suggest you hie thee immediately to http://feriowind.tumblr.com/post/60701629848/confusedkayt-feriowind-i-read-a-fic-where#notes
> 
> Finally, I feel like I ought to give some advance warning beyond a tag change that Hannibal Is Not A Nice Person, and since he traffics in kaiju pharmaceuticals, it seems to me inevitable that he has conducted some human testing that is in the very best case ethically grey in an economic coercion kind of way. References to past tests will come up later as Newt gets more involved in the science over at the workshop/lair. There won't be anything graphic, because that's not how I roll, but I don't want to bait-and-switch anybody and I will be sure to clearly flag it and provide control-F possibilities at the beginning of each chapter where it shows up for folks who'd like to read along but skip those bits.
> 
> Oh, and - I tweaked at Li and Newt's discussion of what might be up with Otachibi, and hope that it now exists in a state that is both in-voice and coherent, but if that is not the case I'd sure like to know it.
> 
> In conclusion, OMG OMG OMG!!!!!
> 
> ETA: Thanks, telm_393, for pointing out that the chapter title and the chapter itself contained ableist language! I am very sorry, and will strive to do better int he future. I really appreciate the chance to fix my mistakes, and I have made some changes to the chapter accordingly. I am so sorry if you saw the prior version.


	10. Business and/or Pleasure?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Timing: This is set the night after Chapters 6-9, so while it's the same day for Newt, who hasn't really slept yet, it's the wee small hours of Day 9 post Breach-closing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Newt gets a little weirded out by the thought that Hannibal may be trying to buy his attentions in this one (and oh, bless, it took him *this long*). This is not meant to reflect the author's views on sex work (or Newt's, in any kind of general sense - we have some good evidence that he's an activist type!), but rather Newt's headspace regarding what's going on between him and the big guy.

"Christ almighty, kid, get off the floor." Ok, wow, so, that shouldn't have startled him, except there must be some super-secret quiet entrance to the lab or something because he's pretty sure all of the hydraulics in the main door would've woken JJ, at least, and maybe even Li, even though her little cot's pretty far back, all pushed up against the wall of shelves, like that was going to do any good.

"Quiet," he whispers, and gestures over at JJ. Hannibal snorts, but not that loudly, and saunters over to the little cot that Newt is maybe technically supposed to be sleeping in right now, heaves himself down. His big ol' hand pats at the space next to him pointedly, and Newt obligingly gets his feet underneath him but they've gone all pins and needles and he makes helpless little gestures at them to speed up the "wake up enough that he can walk over to the impatient guy sitting on Newt's bunk, oh wow, don't think about that too hard, people are in the room and he needs his blood elsewhere right now, ok" process. Hannibal snorts again, but it sounds like a laugh-snort, so he must kind of get it? Anyway, walking feels funny but he's not gonna faceplant now, at least, so he makes his way over to the cot and plops down, close enough to be friendly but far enough that he can look up at Hannibal's face except, oof, so much for that plan, there's an arm around him wrenching him into Hannibal's hot side. The cot gives an awful creaking noise and Newt holds his breath, because clearly that's going to help, and Hannibal chuckles quietly but the thing doesn't give any other indication that it might collapse, so, great. "Um, hi?" he whispers.

"Whatcha doin' down there?" And it's not fair to ask him questions right now, not when Hannibal's dragging a hand up and down his side, rough patches on his fingers catching against Newt's skin. "Don't get me wrong, it's a helluva visual, half-dressed and lit by nothin' but kaiju glow, but all the good little boys are s'posed to be asleep."

"I'm not a good little boy," and that came out bolder than it had been in his head, but Hannibal's rumbly laugh and cupping hand make it clear that his wit's not going unappreciated, here. "Um, except, you know that JJ and Li are..."

"Relax, dumbbell, I'm not here to molest you," but that's a total lie, the hand wandering over his belly just at the edge of his pajama pants has something to say about that and oh geez, Newt did not mean to wriggle but, well, _provocation._ Thankfully, or maybe not thankfully, ugh, this is confusing, Hannibal's hand comes to a halt there on his belly. It's not quite so distracting without motion, and he's suddenly, horribly aware that he's really only wearing pajama pants and some beat-up old boxer briefs that probably have holes in them and that doesn't matter because they're not alone and JJ had made him pinkie swear, anyway, and, oh, right, Hannibal's talking.

"Sorry," he mumbles, and Hannibal's snort ruffles his hair. "I kind of... lost some of that."

"Troublemakin' little..." Hannibal rumbles, and gives him a pinch hard enough to make him yelp. Maybe it was a loud yelp, because there's rustling, and oh, god, that's JJ, but she just sounds like she's shifting, and Hannibal's chuckling again, probably at Newt's little freakout. "Settle down, bucko. You scared of her?"

"Yes, I mean, no, I mean, who isn't, a little?" And oh god, what if that pisses him off and he makes Newt switch out JJ for some other loser, and "Except you, of course, but..."

Hannibal chuckles. "Cool your jets. You shouldn't worry, is all, she's eatin' out of your hand to the tune of tellin' me she'll rip off my balls off if I lead you to ruin, of all the damn things."

Newt darts wild eyes to JJ, because, "And you, like, let her? Oh my god..."

Hannibal chuckles, gives his tummy a bit of a squeeze. "I didn't let it lie at that, no, but she's all right."

"I... Yeah, she's awesome, I think she just.... says things like that to people?" And wow, yes, not a good topic.

Hanninbal must agree because he just shakes his head and says, "What I was askin', before you got the shakes, was what are you workin' on so late? Can't be the stomach."

Oh, geez, that's also trouble, and Newt kind of involuntarily shoves the notebook he's holding behind his back, which was a dumb move because Hannibal easily traps his hand there and snatches the notebook from it. Newt thinks about wriggling away while Hannibal pulls his glasses off to inspect it, because he really wasn't supposed to get into the library shelves, hence Li's hilarious Maginot Line guard dog act, but, well, how was he supposed to resist all of that data and she sleeps really hard, ok, and contrary to everyone ever he can too sneak when he needs to, at least when everyone's asleep and he's not wearing shoes. It must be all right, though, because there's a friendly hand buried in his hair, fingernails scratching at his scalp in a way that sends weird little zings down his spine. "Relax," Hannibal soothes, tugging on Newt's hair a little. "Was gonna let you at this stuff sooner or later anyhow."

"Yeah?" And that's not his most intelligent response, and it earns him another little hair-tug.

"Yeah, he says. Years of research on medicine and weapons, and all the man who can't shut up has to say about it is 'yeah.'"

Ok, no fair. "I'm trying to be quiet," and he gestures around the lab-space-slash-slumber-party. "And I'm, uh, kind of switching back into people mode and out of science mode, and it's ass-o-clock in the morning, so forgive me if I'm not..."

Another chuckle, and Hannibal gives him a friendly jostle with his shoulder. "There he is," and Hannibal gives his face a soft little slap that turns into cupping his jaw. It's only natural that he turns his face into it, up into a metallic-tasting kiss that's all the better for the vibrations Hannibal's laugh sends rumbling through their lips.

Except, wait, nope. He kind of struggles back and says, "Uh, we're not exactly _alone..._ "

And Hannibal drags a thumb over Newt's lower lip. "Make up your mind, punk," but he shifts over agreeably, and it feels awfully cold along Newt's side now.

"Yeah well, sorry, I promised..." and he flaps a hand at JJ again, because this should be self-evident.

Hannibal shakes his head, heaves himself off the cot and slinks over to the big sample-tank, lowers himself down on a patch of floor at the side facing away from JJ and Li. "You are more god damn trouble," he grumbles, but pats his lap when Newt goes to sit on the floor beside him.

"I thought you weren't here to molest me," Newt gripes, and this is not so easy, ok, maybe he should kind of sit sideways, because straddling's, um, well, people are in this room and maybe this is going a little fast, ok, and he crouches down, that's step one, and then, whoops, Hannibal just kind of scoops his arms under Newt and settles him back against his that big chest. His vest's scratchy but smooth, too, feels really funny against Newt's back, and Hannibal grips at his hips to stop the instinctive wriggle he's got going on.

"Better stop that if you want to keep this PG," Hannibal warns and oh geez, that's a face, face right against his neck, and Hannibal is... is biting at his earlobe, which makes him want to arch back into it but he's supposed to be calming down, which he totally has a handle on, even if he can't stop the stupid, awkward, squeaky little sigh from coming out of his mouth and oh man, he put a hand over his mouth to try to stop it, didn't he, way to be suave, Newt. Hannibal's laugh shakes Newt around in ways that are not helpful to Project: Don't Mack In An Occupied Lab at all.

He kind of half-twists so he can look up at Hannibal's face, which is awkward, but Hannibal helpfully braces an arm under his back and this is officially becoming a terrible romance novel cover. "So, uh, what did you come down here for?"

And there's that laugh again, but Newt has got this under control and doesn't wiggle around at all, not even a little. "Your guard dog tell you anything 'bout our little chat?"

Newt shakes his head. "Nope, she was all 'state secrets, the walls have ears' about it Why? Maybe you can tell me..."

"'S why I came down here," Hannibal rumbles, manhandling Newt around so he's sitting sideways, still held up in a Scarlett-O'Hara-Pose with that arm, and that ass grope was definitely not a necessary part of the process. "Sounds like tomorrow's gonna be a big day for you, all kinds of offers comin' your way, and believe me I'm not thrilled they're plannin' to keep you for longer than it takes to do your damn brain scans with your time all bought and paid for by yours truly. Anyway, just wanted to make sure you know they aren't the only ones with a job with your name on it, and I pay cash."

"Cash?" Newt repeats, and suddenly this feels... pretty awful, actually, and he's trying to wriggle off Hannibal's lap in earnest.

Hannibal shakes his heavy head, makes an impatient noise. "Not this," he says, tightening his hands. "This ain't business." Which is not exactly convincing, and, oh god, he can see it now, the way Hannibal yanks him around like he's bought and paid for, and what's he gone and gotten himself into this time...

Hannibal lets his hands drop, though, and Newt almost crashes to the floor, would have, in fact, if Hannibal hadn't caught him and propped Newt's arms underneath him. "Christ, kid, I just meant.... Get your ass up, if you want to, but there's business, and there's you and me, and they're two different things."

"Ok?" Which is not really what he meant to say, because this is already kind of the weirdest and he had stupidly not thought this part through, right, and maybe Hannibal's just... seducing the science out of him, which is the worst and he just needs to... not be here right now. He kind of scoots back onto his own chunk of floor and Hannibal's face folds into a little frown, but he doesn't make any moves to haul Newt back. So.

Hannibal sighs, a heavy sort of thing, and, "I'm offerin' you a solid contract to work for me in R&D, kid, and that's got no bearing on what we get up to after business hours. You think I get my operations mixed up with every cute piece of ass comes my way?"

And Newt can't help it, he recoils at that, he's up on his feet before he knows it, backing away, footsteps loud in the lab and god, if JJ or Li are hearing any of this he will actually die...

"Sit down, will ya," and Hannibal actually sounds a little sad or sorry or something like it. "This is comin' out wrong. I'm a cranky old bastard and I don't often..." He gestures between the two of them. "The looks you give me, the way you talk about them..." Hannibal thunks fingernails against the stomach tank. "Been a long time since I talked to someone who looks at them and sees 'em as the beauties they are, and Christ, just look at you." Hannibal gestures, abrupt, lets his arms fall open. "I got no interest in buying somethin' you aren't sellin'. I just... You don't have the sense god gave a turnip," and Newt snorts at that, mutters, "Real romantic, dude, geez," but Hannibal steamrolls right over him, "and I don't want those government bastards pushing you into a corner you think you can't get out of. Christ, kid you're already workin' without pay, and from what I've been hearin' they're about to get real nasty about who owns the rights to your work. I just... You don't belong to 'em and I want you to know you don't have to. That's all."

"And what if I work for you and..." and Hannibal's raising an eyebrow, jerking his head meaningfully, right, ugh, not alone, he's got to keep quiet but he just... wants to be in his own space right now, so whispering real loud is gonna have to be sneaky enough. "What if I'm working here and this," and ok, fine, making a kissy-face is not the first choice of the dignified, but it gets the job done, so, "doesn't work out so good? What then?"

Hannibal sighs. "Then nothin', kid, that's a golden guarantee. You want evidence, I can point you to a couple of people been workin' here years and it's been just fine."

"People who... People who work here?" And that's all kinds of mental images, god he hopes it's not that dude with the bald pate and greasy side hair who works out front, and oh my god, what if it's the bald lady, and his stupid feelings are roaring all around, because that's kind of hot and ok, fine, so he also feels sort of awful and jealous, which makes like, zero sense, and yeah, Hannibal's talking.

"...been years, yeah, but it's happened. Comes to it, I know how to keep it professional," and that word makes something awful well up in Newt's belly and this is just... not his department, anyway, and it's been a really long-ass day.

But there's Hannibal, looking all expectant, just kind of sitting quietly, which is... Well, who knows what that means, or what any of this is even supposed to mean, honestly, and God, he just... But Hannibal's there, all patient and kind of sad-looking, and it sucks, but that does make Newt feel bad, and you know what? "I just... I need to think about this, ok?"

"You got it, kid," and it's really hard to read anything from Hannibal's tone. Not exactly Newt's specialty, you know? Hannibal stands, backed up against the tank, carefully out of Newt's space and that's... nice of him? "Mind if I give you somethin' to think on?"

And that's... Ok, fine, it makes Newt flush hot, because he wants, even if it's a terrible idea, but, well, not like he's got any virtue left to lose, here, and what harm can it really do, and does he really want to burn this bridge right now, probably not, and, well, sue him, he _wants._ "Go for it," he whispers, and it sounds kind of sullen and kind of breathy and so much for playing it cool.

Hannibal takes slow steps forward, and Newt kind of appreciates that he could get away, even if he's not gonna take the escape route. And then there's a gentle hand on his shoulder and he lets his eyes slip shut, kind of parts his lips but - wow, not expecting that, a soft kiss on the end of his collar bone, little featherlight pecks up the side of his neck, every now and then just a hint of teeth, oh, wow. Hannibal's hot breath feels really good, makes Newt give a little shiver, and there's a pleased rumble that's hot like burning because it's clearly a checked growl - hot, geez, Hannibal's keeping himself under control for Newt, doesn't want to scare him, and yeah, scared is not the primary emotion he's got going on right now, so much so that he lets Hannibal gently turn him and back him up against the sample tank. One big hand cups the side of his face, the other doodling aimless patterns up his side. Hannibal's pressing kisses to his jaw, so soft that they're just kind of a tease and he can't help himself, he kid of whines and leans into them. Hannibal lets out a pleased little rumbling sound and mouths at his jaw in earnest, and that hand's slipping up to circle Newt's nipple. He can't help it, he kind of goes up on tiptoe to press into it, and Hannibal's mouth is hot on his jaw, searching out the good spots, oh man, that's - that's, wow, he's going to remember that, and when did Hannibal's other arm slip down to take all of Newt's weight, god, also hot, he's really strong, like, danger-strong, and that shouldn't make him shudder like it does but them's the breaks. And, oh, yes, finally, finally, that mouth is almost on his and it's Newt who shoves into the kiss, he'll admit it, but it's still not enough because his open mouth's an invitation Hannibal's not too inclined to take, sucking softly on Newt's bottom lip instead, and, oh man, he's whining again, and then Hannibal's latching on to Newt's lip with his teeth, just hard enough to really _feel_ it. And that's it, Hannibal's backing away, and his smile's kind of soft and kind of smug and Newt wants to smack it off his face and kiss him again both. "You think about that," and then he's turning, prowling out of the lab like nothing just happened, like Newt's not all hot and bothered and mixed up and kind of hard and, lucky him, in hearing range of two people.

You think about that, he said. Yeah, like Newt's got a choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I have accepted the spirit of Newt Geiszler into my heart, and acquired a hilarious anecdote that I want to share with the class (but which you should feel free to skip if you would rather not deal with personal natter!) A couple three years ago, a buddy of mine went to a Jekyll and Hyde themed restaurant, and our waiter was a) the hottest; b) supposed to be a horror mansion butler stage-named Dalton Ravenwood, and c) kept sitting at our table to chatter about how much I reminded him of his ex-girlfriend. YES. Anyway, I developed a heck of a crush and slowllllly walked by the restaurant a bunch of times just in case he was working the sidewalk tables and might want to chat, but never went back in out of a potent combination of nervousness and feeling like it might be horrible for him because the waiters are expected to interact with the customers a lot and I didn't want to corner the poor guy. Flash forward two years or so. The same buddy and I are entering the Book of Mormon lottery, wherein you can cough up less than 40 bucks but get front-row seats. The guy who is overseeing the lottery kind of double-takes at me and says, "Hey, are you a lawyer?" Looking down at my Flash sweatshirt, I answered, "Yeah, but I thought I was passing for normal in society, so you've got to let me know what gave me away!" The guy explains that he was my theme waiter a couple of years back, we both have a chuckle that I remembered his stage name, and then I kick myself for not suavely asking him out on the spot because what an opportunity for a rom-com incident in real life! Flash forward another year, and my same friend has come to visit me from cross-country, and implores me to head back to the Book of Mormon lottery. Whaddaya know, but ol' Dalton Ravenwood is still running it. I actually think to myself, "Fortune favors the brave, dude," scribble my personal info on the back of a business card, and stride on up to hand in my entry. "Are you the artist formerly known as Dalton Ravenwood?" I ask, and he looks a little confused and then goes, "Oh right, and you're a lawyer, you were wearing a Superman sweatshirt," at which point I emit a horrible strained giggle and say, "Yep, that's how I roll, so anyway, I was thinking we keep running into each other and so maybe give me a call sometime?" and thrust forward the business card. It is at this point that I realize a) hitting on people via business cards is not suave and b) I have done all this in plain view of the assembled lottery entrants, at a reasonably high volume because Mr. Ravenwood is up on a raised platform holding a megaphone, and c) I am sort of being a jerk because the poor guy's at work. YIKES. So I panicked, and bolted, but my dreadful buddy made me stick around for the lottery results while I did my best to blend into the crowd, which was not a notable success because I was in head-to-toe canary yellow. Alas, my phone has not been ringing, and now I will never again know the joy of trying for cheap tickets to what is supposed to be a heck of a show. Let this be a warning to you, folks - accept Newt Geiszler into your heart with caution, because he brings the bravado but also the epic awkward failboatery! /end awkward personal story time
> 
> ANYWAY. I need to rep for the XTREME AWESOMENESS from the commentariat this past chapter! Extra shout-outs to keroseneSteve and starfoozle for amazing K-science theory convos, and to sierrapapaquebecromeo and jk_rockin and beckyh2112 for the fabtastic characterization conversations and comment fic! (Seriously, you don't even know what hilarity lurks in the comments.) Finally, telm_393 is also responsible for all kinds of characterization and commentfic shennanigans, but I wanted to extend a public thanks for the heads-up that I needed to think about and warn for ableist language. It's my firm belief that fandom is a fun activity and that it's the worst if people get blindsided by surprise upsetting content when they're reading something for fun, so please feel more than free to tell me if you think I should consider adding any further warnings or tags. I'll do my best to make sure I warn before the fact, but it's more than possible that I'll screw up despite my efforts.
> 
> This also goes for anything that's just.... bothersome (thanks to raven_aorla, Raafling, skullopendra and several others on this score). Yikes, I feel bad about all of these specific shoutouts because there are so many other people who have also really lifted my mood, had amazing thoughts and contributions, and just generally rocked my world via comments. I focused on the above-named folks because I want to highlight that I'm really happy to have concrit and I know some folks worry about leaving same. I'm super-jazzed about this story and working hard on it, and it means the world to me that so many folks are helping me make it even better. There really ought to be a co-author tag for "generous readership."


	11. Best Friends Forever, and All That Jazz

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Timing: This is set the morning after Chapter 10, so still 9 days after V-K Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Passing mention by Hermann that he fears Hannibal tried to force Newt into something, but Newt smoothes that over on the double

Ok, the car ride from Hannibal's is already weird because every time he tries to start talking the security guy who's driving just kind of grunts at him and JJ gives him this pinched look and maybe he's supposed to be keeping something quiet which, yeah, would have been good to know in advance, or whatever. Anyway, it's easy enough to just tune out the boring weapons chatter that JJ and the other guy have going because his phone's lighting up like a Christmas tree with all of the texts from Hermann and Hannibal and somebody who might be Li or might just be a random person tasked with sending him steady updates on his Amazing Technicolor Stomach Sample. But this is maybe a little much? There are like six people waiting for his car at the Shatterdome, is all, and they're moving fast - he doesn't think that's the tiredness talking, although that's probably not helping. Ugh. Sleeping is a thing he should do. Sometime. It's not like he got much rest last night, all jittery with science and Hannibal and the blue light from the stomach is a little too much like the Drift and just enough like Otachi at that public shelter, and anyway. Sleeping, not so much, or at least not so well and not so long, and he's gotta do something about that sometime when Tendo isn't giving him a significant look and a "call me" gesture and hustling JJ away. 

Two guys have already taken the car and a couple more sure look like they're aiming to take him, too, but Hermann brushes right past them. "You may speak to Dr. Geiszler when I am done with him," he barks and that's... not great, exactly, but the security guys grumble a little bit - he thinks he catches the word Marshall- but clear out because it's a bad call to get between Newt and Hermann when Hermann's in a mood, for sure.

"Hey, buddy," he tries and Hermann fixes him with a glare that he doesn't feel like he's earned, exactly, so it gets his back up. "Hey, what, I replied to your texts and I am totally early and was coming straight to you, so..."

Hermann kind of grimaces. "Newton, I... What I mean to say is..." A pained face, and Newt nods, encouraging, because this is clearly an actual conversation and not an impending verbal beat-down which is frankly better than projections. "Oh, come along," Hermann sighs, and turns his back on Newt, begins marching into the Shatterdome in that stompy way that makes everyone just clear a path to avoid dealing with Stormin' Hermann.

Except Herc himself is just inside the door, clearly rushing a bit. Maybe he was supposed to be part of the weird car-welcoming committee, too? Hermann's hand darts out, fingers hard around Newt's wrist. Newt leans in a little bit, subtle, because something's clearly about to go down and Hermann's as good as screaming he might need backup on this one. 

"Doctors," Herc greets, and he sounds so tired, but Hermann's having none of it, straightening up as best he can without letting go of Newt's wrist. 

"Marshall, you have left me with no choice but to tender my resignation, effective immediately."

And, oh god, the rush of panic that builds up in his belly is just... Wow, no, this is not acceptable. "Hermann, wait, no, you can't, the Breach - we aren't even sure it's gone forever, and your work, you can't just..."

That doesn't even draw a blink. "Yes, well, I am sure that someone can be found to stand in my position now that it is low risk and compensated," and that tone is _ice cold,_ and all for Herc.

All for Herc, who at least has the good grace to look embarrassed. "Can't say I'm surprised, Doc," and Hermann sucks in a sharp breath, "Er, Dr. Gottlieb. I can't accept."

"I'm afraid this is _not_ negotiable," and Hermann's just this edge of shouting. He's never been like this, not with the higher-ups, he's respectful, rank and all that, oh, geez. "Newton - Dr. Geiszler - this man is a hero, plain and simple. I will not stand here while he is insulted in this manner." Hermann brandishes a set of papers, all crumpled around the handle of his cane. "This is an insult, and you ought to be ashamed."

"I am," Herc admits, and Hermann relaxes fractionally, but he's got Herc caught in an evil stare that just won't quit.

"I was given to understand that Dr. Geiszler would be given an offer like the one presented to me which, while unacceptable, is at least more circumspect in its utter lack of regard for the work we have done in service of the PPDC than this... This..." and he's brandishing the papers again.

Herc adjusts his shoulders. "Dr. Geiszler's a controversial figure," and wow, ouch. Hermann's huffy inhale echoes loud in the room, but Herc shakes his head. "Which is why the Defense Committee thought it appropriate to begin his negotiations at a different point than yours. Between you and me, that's a crock of shit and neither one of you'll be railroaded into this over my dead body. You'll have a place here, on fair terms, as long as you want one, if I have to go begging for donations myself."

Hermann's still narrowing his eyes but his grip on Newt's wrist relaxes to the right side of painful. "You'll forgive me if I seek representation for the both of us. We'll be drawing up our own counterproposal..."

"You guys? What? I'm serious, what?" And Hermann gives him a quelling sort of look but there's clearly a little panic in there. "Let me see..."

"No," Hermann hisses, punctuating with a hard strike of his cane against the concrete floor. "This is an insult and it will go no further. It is off the table, do you understand?"

Herc's sigh is enough to make Newt tired, honestly. He catches Newt's eyes, gives a nod. "The council's put forward a piss-poor proposal for the next steps with K-science. Like hell it'll be the way it goes, but I had to let you see where their heads're at."

"I can appreciate that," Hermann admits, though it clearly pains him. "Just as I'm sure you can appreciate that we will have to consider other employment options if this," another hard shake of the papers, "is even under discussion."

"I, uh, kind of have another offer on the table?" And this was totally not the time but, whoops, this is freaking him out, ok, and he's sick of just standing here while everyone talks around him and won't tell him what the hell is going on.

Except Hermann's face is settled in that awful force-calm freeze that he reserves for kaiju entrails on his paperwork and utter betrayals. "I was not aware that you had been in contact with any universities..."

"Um, well, the other offers are kind of offer, singular, and it's kind of from Hannibal?" Ouch, yikes, that hand on his wrist has gone defcon vice-grip. He tugs gently in protest and Hermann lets up, but only a teeny tiny bit. "I was gonna tell you, but I just got here and..."

Herc's tired sigh interrupts Newt and the rant Hermann's no doubt brewing up. "That's a whole other can of worms. Been hearing all kinds of things about you and Hannibal Chau."

Oh, god, he's blushing, he can feel himself blushing, because who knows what JJ's been telling people and anyway, whatever, he's got nothing to be ashamed of. Well, nothing he's going to let Herc make him ashamed of, anyway, not like this. "I'm just saying, we should think about teaming up with the guy - or staying teamed up, let's be real, Pentecost told me..." and Herc visibly flinches at that, and wow, yeah, Newt actually feels kind of bad. "I'm just saying, he's got crazy resources and you wouldn't believe the data he's already got."

"I'm not sure that's a good idea," Hermann starts, and Newt shakes his head.

"I'm not sure it isn't. We should at least, uh, think it over?" Hermann's shaking his head and this is just... kind of more than Newt's up for. "Look..." And Hermann's giving him this intense stare, like he's supposed to just read what the guy's thinking, and, just...

"Can't say it's out of the question," Herc interrupts, and oh boy, there's a guy who's feeling the awk. "Write me up something and we'll talk it over, yeah?"

Hermann nods jerkily. "Yes, well, it is plain that my colleague and I have much to discuss. Good day to you, Marshall, and you may expect our counterproposal in one week."

Herc winces. "The Council will..."

Hermann raises his voice - holy shit, actually _raises his voice to talk over their commanding officer._ "I'm certain that you can appreciate that one week is a minimal amount of time to reach out to contacts and consider our options. Now, good day."

And Herc looks so miserable that Newt thinks about thanking him for having their backs or something but, well, that might piss Hermann off and it's not like he owes Herc any favors. It's easier to just let Hermann tow him across the shop floor and of course, because it's that kind of day, Tendo and JJ are loitering right at the entrance to the hallway.

Hermann fixes Tendo with a death stare. "This is not a good time, Mr. Choi."

"I can see that," Tendo says, all casual. "Newt, give me a jingle when you've got a minute to talk. Before you leave the 'dome, ok?"

"Sure," and he's got to say it over his shoulder because Hermann's chugging away down the hall like no one's speaking at all. "Dude, uh, where are we going?"

"'Dude,'" Hermann mutters, shaking his head. "I do not know how many times..."

Newt flexes the wrist Hermann's death-gripping. "Not the important part of that sentence. Where are we going?"

For the first time Hermann looks unsure. "Our laboratory, I had thought?"

And, wow, yeah, that's appealing - familiar ground, their space. Almost nobody's dumb enough to come in there on a bad day and this is clearly one of the worst on record - half the staff's probably gossiping about their little spat with Herc and, well, whatever they may or may not have heard about Newt... Anyway. Focus.

"Ok," he agrees, and Hermann's frowning at the ground in front of him, leaving Newt to steer them clear of the oncoming foot traffic, although truth be told most everybody clears out of the way. Can't say that he blames 'em. At least it means it's a pretty quick walk back to home base. Hermann kind of stutters to a halt as soon as the door of the lab swing closed behind them. He's not quite shaking, but it's got to be a near thing, so Newt bumps a gentle hip against him and kind of tugs Hermann over to the ratty little couch they've tucked in the back corner of Hermann's side for just this sort of occasion. Hermann sits down hard and Newt follows suit, pressing his arm against the one Hermann's stiffly braced against the cushion. They just kind of sit for a while, long enough that Newt nudges his leg over so their calves are pressed together. It takes forever for Hermann to throttle down a bit, but he's got nowhere to be, and eventually Hermann's relaxed enough that his shoulder comes down to bump Newt's.

"So, yeah, thanks for that," he tries, and Hermann presses his lips together, staring at his shoes. "I mean it, buddy, you really had my back in there."

"I could hardly do otherwise," and, yowch, that's a simmering-meltdown tone, which is not surprising, considering. Newt subsides, allows himself to lean up on Hermann a little, and the ever-so-slight pressure against him in response is such a goddamn relief. It's going to be all right.

Except he's totally going to ruin it, but this is _killing him_ , he's just got know. "So, can I see..." he starts, and Hermann locks up tight again but hands over the papers, which are by this point a crumply, sweaty mess.

He starts to read and Hermann braces up against him, clear Hermann-code for 'I've got your back.' Geez. No wonder he's so worked up - the very first paragraph's a we-can-fire-you-at-will clause, and then there's a bunch of complicated divvying up of patent rights to any of his future discoveries between Pfizer and GlaxoSmithKline. The third page is the kicker, though - it's a super-vicious nondisclosure agreement. Newt's name can't go on the patents, he can't talk to the press, he's not to publish any papers and is obliged to discourage anyone from even thanking him in their footnotes. Yeah, no. No way in hell.

He can feel a horrible, panicky sort of laugh burbling up and he chokes it back down, hard, leaning into Hermann's arm because he doesn't have to accept this, he won't accept this, and nobody but nobody can really make him. So the same motherfuckers who abandoned them for the Wall are trying to write him out of the history books from here on in? Shocker. He'd bet a dollar that motherfucking Lars Gottlieb is behind this, somehow, this has his bitchy little fingerprints all over it, and yeah, Hermann's got his back but there's a level of upset that no one else can produce in him and Newt's pretty sure he just saw that in action.

"Fuck 'em," Newt says, and drops the papers on the floor in a messy heap.

Hermann flinches - there's that neat-freak instinct - but gives the papers a halfhearted little kick. "I cannot say I appreciate the phrasing, but I endorse the sentiment," he sniffs. And there we go. There's his buddy, back in bitching form.

Sure enough, Hermann gets to his feet, shuffles over to his workstation. Newt tries to follow him but Hermann makes a little stay-there motion, shoulders hunching up as he reads something over. His steps are heavy as he makes his way back to the couch. He's not sitting easy, holding himself tense next to Newt, fingers clenched on the sofa edge. "There is another matter that we must discuss," he says, and he sounds... pained but not angry?

Newt eases back until his back's supported by the couch, nudges Hermann's thigh with his own. "You got it, buddy," he says, and Hermann sighs, doesn't take the invitation to recline back. That's just awkward, but it might be worse if he leans back up because Hermann's clearly steeling himself for something, and Newt can prettymuch guess what it is. It's the red-gold knife-totin' elephant in the room, but it's no good rushing Hermann into things, especially because Newt would have guessed this was going to go forward with a lot more shouting than seems immanent, so he'll wait it out.

"I appreciate that you have been under a great deal of pressure," and there's something funny with Hermann's voice, like he's reading from a teleprompter. "I... understand that you may feel a certain... anxiety about our situation and your field of specialization in particular at this time." Yeah, this is... distinctly weird, but he can't get anything from Hermann's face - his eyes are fixed on the lab wall and he's giving off nothing but stress vibes. "And yet, I hope to convince you that you need not take _foolish risks,_ " and that's the beginning of a yell-type tone but Hermann reigns himself in, gives Newt a guilty look and yeah, maybe he flinched or something? Hermann gives a desperate sort of look over to his computer and... Oh, yeah.

"Hey, buddy, did you write this down?" Hermann's shoulders hunch in, his mouth tightens. "Hey, no, it's cool, I can read it if you want?" Hermann shakes his head, looking miserable, which is no good. Newt knocks their shoulders together. "It's cool, you can stand right by me while I read and we can talk about it afterward?" Which honestly seems like a pretty good plan - they've totally done this before, because God knows they aren't.... feelings discussion guys, and when it's a big deal it's especially hard to get through a conversation without a lot of yelling and very little actual, you know, discussion. But Hermann's giving him a guilty look, and yeah, not the point. "Or, you know, not, because..."

"I... I may have discussed the situation with Vanessa," Hermann mutters, and yeah, he's all braced up like he thinks that'll make Newt go defcon, which honestly it.... probably usually would? But it's super-clear that Hermann's trying like crazy, trying for Newt, and it's not like he's been like, gossiping behind his back, not really, or at least not with people Newt knows, except, yeah, that's...

"Oh, damn, I was kind of hoping I'd have time to convince her I'm not, like, terrible for you or anything," and yeah, he didn't mean to vocalize that.

Hermann huffs out a surprised laugh, though, so maybe his verbal diarrhea isn't all bad. "There's no chance of that," he says, and it sounds warm, but...

"Ouch, geez, Hermann..." But that's a hard head-shake, and Hermann's flush up against his side.

"No. I am not being clear. I... That is..." Hermann swallows, gives an awkward little cough. "Vanessa knows that you are... You are very important to me."

Not gonna lie, even that hangdog mutter, even with Hermann staring fixedly at the wall, that's... really nice to hear, even if he knows it, has known for a while that Hermann's in this with him, for sure. "Thanks, du- Hermann. You know you mean so much to me too," and he's got to resist the urge to babble, the qualify, to fill the silence because it's _Hermann_ and it's _true_ and it's good for him to hear this stuff even if it's not usually their thing and yeah, feelings, man, they are the worst.

"Yes, well," Hermann says, and maybe Newt's hearing things but that little cough sounded sort of choked up. But Hermann's up, smoothing imaginary wrinkles from his slacks, looking anywhere but back at Newt, so, yeah, bro pact, that's enough of this. "I suppose... If you don't mind, that is, perhaps it would be best..."

"Yeah, dude," and Newt gets up and follows Hermann over to his computer terminal. He can't help but notice that he's looking at e-mail nine in a chain, a little redline of what looks to be a script. There's a funny, warm, fond feeling in his belly because Hermann... Yeah. This is just a lot.

Anyway. The e-mail. " _Love, I've made a couple of suggestions but I think this will do the trick. It's very brave of you. XOVG._ "

Newt spares a glance for Hermann, who's trying desperately to pretend he's not hovering, and, yeah, he'll take pity on the guy and read fast. " _I appreciate that you are under a great deal of pressure, and that this is an uncertain time. However, I worry that you are taking risks with your own safety in an effort to recapture a sense of purpose and also because you have convinced yourself that 'rock stars' must walk into the most obvious available danger to be worthy of the title. I would like to remind you that there is much important work to be done still in your field, and much of what we have done has not been prepared for public presentation and publication. There is much work for you here, and it is important and pressing work that urgently needs your attention._ " 

And here there's red text, Vanessa's insertion probably? _"Don't go into the professional too quickly, love. Maybe something here about how he's got a life at the Shatterdome that will stay there for him? And that his work is there too, of course, but the emphasis shouldn't be there._ "

Then it's back to the black text. _"I am fearful that you are turning to Hannibal Chau because you fear you will not otherwise be able to access samples and data, and because you are overwhelmed by his flashy nature, and because of your own contrary manner, as it has been made plain to you by many of your friends that the man is a danger and a scoundrel."_

Newt's almost offended by that, except, yeah, sort of true, but Vanessa's apparently got his back on this one. _"Ease up on the insults, love,"_ says the red text. _"You know that he won't respond well to this. It's risky and you do not believe it is a healthy attachment for him to cultivate - just leave it at that. And you need to tell him in as many words that you are not leaving. Does he know that you plan to stay at the Shatterdome? Because you haven't mentioned that anywhere."_

That startles Newt's attention away from the screen. "Dude, what, aren't you going to Germany..."

"Yes," and Hermann looks _so_ uncomfortable, weaving his head around for a moment until he picks a new point behind Newt to stare at. "Yes, I will leave for the birth, and for a while after that time. You understand, I am sure, that the risk is too great - there is no research regarding the possible effects of kaiju contamination on fetal or newborn development..."

That's... Well, _expecting_ would be a strong word for this, but he kinda knew this was coming, he knew it, and so what if it freaks him out, the thought of a post-Hermann existence, but, yeah, Newt's a dick but nobody's _that_ selfish. He's got this. "Yeah, dude, I get it, and, sure, of course you've got to do what's best for..."

Hermann shuffles up against his side. "I am not making myself clear, yet again. Please..." And Newt subsides. His breaths feel too fast and too loud, even gulping noise Hermann's making seems enormous. "I have been investigating the matter, and there is no indication that young children have presented an unusual number of chronic illnesses or other ill effects in cities affected by kaiju events, unless they spend significant time near the kill zones. Accordingly, Vanessa has convinced me that it is... an acceptable level of risk to join me here. PPDC is here. My work is here. My place is here." Hermann nods, too sharp, and nervously glancing at Newt out of the corner of his eye; Newt swears he can feel the "you are here" that's going unvoiced.

That's just... Wow, yeah, he hasn't been allowing himself to think about that, too busy with everything that's come up since the closing of the Breach, so much, and it was easier to just.... not. But a horrible knot of something is coming loose inside him and leaving warmth behind it, and he throws an arm around Hermann's waist on reflex, kind of leans his head into the guy's musty sweater. Hermann awkwardly pats at his head and he can't even help it, he breaks into giggles, and Hermann's little grumping sounds only feed that impulse.

"I'm so glad, dude," he manages, and Hermann huffs but doesn't dislodge him, just rests his hand on Newt's head. Newt just kind of lets himself soak it up for a moment before straightening a little. "And, yeah, I hear you about..." He gestures at the computer screen. "I'm kind of trying to figure it out? With Hannibal, I mean, because..." He shoots Hermann a sidelong glance. His jaw's all locked up, which is not such a good sign, and maybe he shouldn't go into the gory details? "You know what, maybe we can just..." He kind of waves his hands in a let's-be-done-here gesture.

Hermann shakes his head. "I would like... That is, you may certainly speak with me on the subject if... if you would like..."

And Newt doesn't think he's imagining Hermann's sigh of relief when the damn 2 o'clock alarm starts its obnoxious blaring, even if Hermann is hissing curses on his way over to shut it off. This is more real talk than he's up for all at once, honestly, and probably Hermann, too, so he just heads for the exit. Hermann's making a stubborn face, though, so he tries, "Listen, dude, I'll get my head straight, and then we'll... do this thing, ok?"

"Acceptable," Hermann sniffs, but he bumps up against Newt as he passes him in the hallway. "Do keep up. Time and data collection wait for no man," and, yeah, they're really out of the woods because that's the lame Hermann equivalent of a joke, he's pretty sure.

He's feeling pretty good but that's obviously premature because, oh yeah, this is his life, and as soon as they open the door to the scanning lab Raleigh looks right at him and actually _blushes bright red_. Mako kind of titters and, yeah. "Yeah, let's all share and care about how I made out with the baddest gangster in town, thanks for that, Tendo, I thought that was supposed to be classified or something."

Tendo's just cracking up, because of course he is, but Hermann raps his cane on the casing of the control console. "Focus, Mr. Choi. I'm certain we can convene the sewing circle after we've taken the readings."

Tendo pulls a so-serious-I'm-totally-mocking-you face. "You got it, brother. Helmet everybody up?"

Hermann does just that, muttering about gangsters and clowns and professionalism, and Newt joins in on the giggling that's going around because, come on, this whole thing is ridiculous.

Tendo's still grinning, shaking his head, as he fires up the start sequence. "All right, everybody, on my mark. In three, two, one, GO." And they're counting, and for reals, Newt's gonna have to ask Hermann about the possibility of a ghost Drift because he swears he can feel somebody else's warmth and worry knocking around in his head by the time they reach thirty.

Yeah, no, this is not the time to keep quiet. "Dude, I swear I'm not trying to get out of Newt's Hilarious Personal Life: The Reckoning, but... I mean, are you guys feeling this? Every time we do one of these scans I swear I feel a... Like a pull?"

"A pull?" Mako asks, but she looks thoughtful, and Raleigh's kind of nodding.

Oh man, clarification needed, but it's hard to find the words for this one. "Yeah, yeah. It's... kind of like my brain's lonely, and maybe it sort of goes out looking for a buddy? Or maybe it even kind of finds one, because, I'm not too sure I'm not getting something off off of you, Hermann. Nothing as clear as in actual Drift, but some feelings?" Hermann's giving him fish-eye so, "Or not, you know, maybe I'm just imagining things..."

"No, no, I don't believe you are," and Hermann is making his constipated-with-the-power-of-my-thoughts face, so, score.

"I agree," Mako adds. "It may be recollections shaken loose from earlier Drifts, or it may be new information, but I definitely feel... something after these scans."

Raleigh gives a little nod. "Yep, same here."

"Hmmm," and Herman begins to disengage from his helmet. "Yes, I'll take a look at the readings and see if I can offer a hypothesis. Perhaps some additional testing..."

Raleigh groans and Hermann shakes his head at the guy, but he's making an indulgent face? Which, wow, yeah, Newt didn't realize those two were on that kind of terms. "You're not fooling anyone, Ranger Beckett."

Raleigh laughs, easy, drumming his fingers on his knee. "Yeah, sure, sign me up to spend more time plugged into the wall."

"Now that has been settled," Mako turns an impish grin on Newt and uh-oh. "I believe that you mentioned a reckoning?"

It's Newt's turns to groan, and that sets Mako to giggling again, which of course makes Raleigh grin a big goofy grin at her. "What? Come on, you guys are totally mocking my pain. Or my love life. Definitely not my love life of pain, that's not a thing that's happening, don't worry..."

"TMI, dude," Tendo says, barely comprehensible around the laughing.

"Yeah, yeah, fine, whatever, like you all aren't dying to grill me about my seedy conquests. Except there's not that much to tell? Hannibal kissed me..." and Tendo's giving him a come-on-dude kind of stare, "Ok, fine, he kissed me like, a few times," and that's.... he's flushing to remember, but hopefully everyone will just chalk it up to embarrassment? Right? Right. Because he is totally, totally embarrassed right now. "But then I kind of put the brakes on because I wanted to make sure this isn't like... a sexy plot to honeytrap me into giving up my sweet, sweet K-science, except when you put it that way it sounds sort of ridiculous, because since when have do I play hard to get in the lab context, and oh, wow, that came out wrong, I am implying nothing about my dear Dr. Gottlieb..."

And Hermann's huffing imprecations but kind of quirking his mouth in spite of himself, and everyone else cracking up, and it's kind of remarkably not awkward. Tendo's the first to recover. "So is the honeytrapping a legit possibility?" and it's clear he's trying to keep a serious face but it's not working even a little bit.

"I mean, it was weird at the time? Because who even offers you a job when you're sitting in their lap..." Annnnnd there goes the laughter. "I mean, I know, right, it kind of freaked me out, too, but looking back I think it might just have kind of come out wrong? I don't know, I'm still kind of thinking it over."

Hermann's mouth is a tight line, probably embarrassment instead of anger? Tough call. "He didn't... Newton, if he tried to force you..."

And yeah, no, Newt holds up calming hands. "Yeah, no, nothing like that. I mean he's a... forward kind of guy, but when I freaked out he backed right off?"

"You don't sound certain," Hermann presses, and now he's making murder-face, so, yeah, best cut this off right quick.

"I'm sure, dude. I'm just not saying it right because it was sort of weird, like, at the time? But I think I just caught him by surprise or something and anyway, yeah, and hear me out here, I don't think he's that kind of guy or anything. He even said he wasn't interested in buying something I wan't selling," and yeah, no, there's a whole lot of murder face in this room all of a sudden, "which, again, is coming out wrong. He didn't bring that up, I brought it up, because of the whole 'hey make-out partner, come work for me, I pay cash,' thing, but he told me that he knows how to keep the personal out of the professional and I think he just wants a piece of this hotness? And the laughing, why are you laughing, come on, I'm totally hot stuff..." And what is he supposed to do but prod his butt with a finger and make a sizzling noise, he's only human, and that prettymuch sets everyone off again except for Hermann, who still looks like he's sucking a lemon. "Hey," Newt tries, and catches his eye. "Hey, dude, there's nothing to worry about..."

"That is truth's precise opposite..." Hermann starts, but Newt shuffles up to him and lays a hand on his wrist.

"No, buddy, I hear you, but... I'm being safe, I think, and he's... actually a pretty nice guy," and he just ignores Hermann's incredulous snort, "what, dude, he knows his K-science and he's into my tatts, and, well, those kisses, man, the heat was _visible from space_..."

And Hermann's stuttering, and Tendo's holding up his hand. "Hold your horses, Newt, I think we've heard enough."

"Oh thank god," and yeah, ok, maybe he sounds relieved, but there's no reason that should make Raleigh snort-laugh.

"What?" Raleigh defends.

Tendo grins, shakes his head. "Nobody wants the dirty details," and Raleigh kind of looks guilty-disappointed, which is frankly hilarious, "and the front office thinks it's not such a bad idea for now, if you're up for it, which it sounds like you are..."

"Yeah, kinda, I think?" he says, at the same time Hermann growls, "If you make a thrice-damned 'that's what he said' joke..." and he can't help it, he cracks up so hard he can see _stars._

Tendo kind of gets ahold of himself enough to slap Newt's shoulder. "Good for you, boss man, but just... I'm not sold on this, and it sounds like you aren't either. Don't let him push you around, ok? Watch yourself. You use your panic button if you need it and don't do anything I wouldn't do."

"I'm afraid that ship has sailed," Hermann sniffs, and he looks so miserable and anxious that Newt feels kind of shitty about it.

"I get it. This might not be, like, a shining moment in my history of good decisionmaking..."

"That would be a very short history..." Hermann snorts.

" _As I was saying,_ I get that this is... sort of questionable? And I'll be careful and it's not like he can lock me up in his den of sex and crime," and Hermann's pathetic little "oh dear lord" is also super guilt-inducing, "because I've got to come back here every day for scans and JJ's just a speed dial away and I... I'm gonna level with you guys, ok, I want to kind of take it slow just in case? And it's not like I'm going over there on a booty call, because he's beyond busy right now, and there's a metric ton of kaiju to process, and oh my god, I can't believe I forgot to tell you about the experiments, Hermann, you should see what's going on with the stomach sample, it's a whole honest-to-god stomach now, and don't even get me started on the data backlog, and right, anyway, what I'm saying is, no need to worry about my manly virtue just yet."

Tendo shakes his head. "If you say so, brother, but if you want out, say the word and we'll..."

"Yeah, no, did you not even catch what I'm saying about the data, because the guy's got a library chock full of years worth of data on kaiju organs and I..."

"Newt," and that's Mako, taking his hand and fixing him with a hard stare. "Newt, you will not do this just for data." And that's a serious, serious tone.

He tries to reply in kind, even if it's so much worse to talk about this without the joking. "Nah, I totally won't, cross my heart, not just for data, ok?" And everything's so weird and grim and he just can't help himself, so, "Data and steamy liplocks? Another story. Because seriously..." Mako squeezes his hand, hard, ouch, she's got a hell of a grip, but quirks a little half-smile at him, so he figures they're good? Sort of? Let's go with that. "Is this the part where you tell him if he breaks my heart, you break his legs?"

"No," and she's still smiling, so that's something, "although that is also true. Here is the part where I tell you to be careful, Newt. I don't like this."

"Ok," and that's all he can really say, because he doesn't have a better answer, not even for himself, let alone this weird lovelife crowdsourcing group he's got himself somehow. That's enough, though, because she nods and heads out. Raleigh smacks him on the shoulder and kind of locks eyes, and Newt's not sure what that's supposed to mean but he's gonna interpret it as support and with those two "I agree with Mako" is a pretty safe bet, so he just settles for giving Raeligh a manly nod which works ok because the guy returns it and heads on out of the lab.

Tendo's fussing with the equipment, so he steals a moment to sidle up to Hermann. "Hey, dude," and Hermann just presses his lips tighter. "I'm serious, I... God, I am so bad at this stuff. But, yeah, there's something there, ok? Like, he gets me, and you can't fake chemistry, and oh my god, stop making that noise, I take it back..."

Hermann shakes his head. "Clearly nothing I can say will make the slightest impact on you..."

Newt presses up next to the guy. "That's not true, dude. My inner Hermann is alive and well and telling me to slow my roll, except he's all stuffy and formal so it's more like he's telling me 'don't rush in where angels fear to tread.'" He pauses, because that's definitely a laugh-line, but nothing. "Come on, I don't even get a smile for that?" Hermann just huffs and stares stubbornly at the floor. "Ok, dude, well, so, about the contracts? Do you want to maybe think about where you'd want to go, in case we have to find something else after all because I'd rather stay here at PPDC and I think you would too, and oh god, I guess i'm just assuming we'd go together if we go but, I mean..."

"Newton. Newt," Hermann says, fixing him with a serious look. "If we go, we will go together."

He manages to hold in his 'oh thank god,' but only just, and just kind of squeezes at Hermann's wrists and tries to convey the sentiment with his eyes which must more or less work because Hermann colors up a little and breaks eye contact, pointedly turning back to his screen. "I guess I'll see you tomorrow," he says, and he kind of pauses again but that's all he's gonna get and he doesn't feel excellent about leaving it at that but honestly he's not sure where to go from here. "We good, Tendo?"

Tendo gets a thoughtful look and promptly ruins it with I'm-watching-you fingers. "I don't care if I'm the grumpy old man ruining your fun, compadre, you miss a check-in, I'm sending every armed guard I can find into that place and I don't care what'll do to our relations with Hannibal's ops."

"Got it," Newt says, and Tendo doesn't look too pissed, and he'd really rather not leave with all of his favorite people glaring at him, so, "Geez, hoss, getting practice for your future shotgun speeches?"

"Something like that," and yeah, Tendo's totally cracking a smile, even if it isn't up to his usual levels of sunnyness. "I'm serious, Newt..."

"I hear you, dude, I haven't missed one yet."

And Tendo gives him a thumbs-up, even if that's a weird contrast with his grim face. "Don't start, ok? Now get your ass out of here, some of us have work to do," Tendo grumbles, and it's not perfect but it's going to have to work because he's seriously already late, probably. He ought to say something, thank them for worrying or tell them he'll be careful or something but he's not good at this, and he'll just start babbling, and it's not like he's going to make them feel any better, let's be honest here, plus he's kind of a chicken so he just slips out of the scanning lab. Out in the hallway, he squares his shoulders and mutters "Once more unto the breach," and some passing Jaeger tech gives him a weird look so he gives her a thumbs-up and at least somebody around here's amused by him. It'll have to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG! I'm so sorry that this took longer than usual, but the first draft was... kind of grim in tone, actually, because Newt's got a lot of heavy stuff on his plate but I didn't want this story to take u-turn for the depressing, and I'm a giant marshmallow and have been enjoying the breezy humor, so I reconfigured. Also this bad boy is almost twice as long as usual - it's pushing 7k! So thanks for your patience and I firmly believe that weeklong gap between updates was a total anomaly, so. :D [[ETA: Ack! I am kind of an accidental liar on this one. Because things are accelerating and Chapter 12 is going to need a little extra love and it might not be up till Sunday!]]
> 
> Anyway! I really hope you enjoyed the friend feels, because I *really* liked writing Hermann and Newt's awkward but total togetherness! They aren't discussion guys, but lord they try. I also hope you found the multi-party chat in the scanning-lab to be to your liking, because I think it's probably hard to be super-serious at Newt for too long because it makes him nervous and he'll clown around in such a way that it's impossible not to be a little amused, even if the worries everyone is trying to express are legit!
> 
> Also, I think I'm going to go back in the next couple of days and re-title the chapters to include a little heads-up for timeline, because since I'm writing in such a you-are-there type style there are a lot of words but not much time passing in a lot of cases. This one, I hope it was clear, was the day right after the last chapter. Also stay tuned for more Hannibal Chau's Den of Sex and Crime goodness in the next chapter! And thanks so much for sticking with me, and your amazing feedback! I hope you'll chime in this chapter too! *excited high fives for everyone!*


	12. No Rest for the Wicked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Timing: Takes place the afternoon after the scanning-and-check-in in Chapter 11 (so still 9 days after V-K Day)

Something's prodding at his leg, none too gently, to be honest. Newt wriggles his leg away but the darn thing follows him and he kind of tries to stomp his foot in a _not now_ manner because that level of persistence means it's probably a person but, hello, he's flat on his back and most of the way under an industrial grinder, take a hint, person, he's a little busy here. Just a couple more wires... "Owch!" he yelps, not because of the kick, although, also, _ow,_ but because it made him jump and he kind of got his wrist with the soldering iron but just a little bit and he's got welding gloves on so it'll be fine but still, it's the principle of the the thing.

Still, he starts wriggling out because kicks-a-lot out there is clearly not going to wait for him to finish up and, ok, yeah, he should definitely have realized that was gonna be Hannibal because who else is going to kick him, Li's not so mean and nobody else has come within ten feet of him since he showed up.

The thing is, he'd kind of pictured this going differently. He's a lucky guy, it's sort of his thing, and he figured the Hannibal-free workshop-lair when he arrived was part of that because his decision-making's shot and he knows it and he just... who needed that kind of pressure, ok, because he's used up his having-emotions-and-confrontations quotient for the day and then some. And even if Li's had him doing gruntwork for a few hours, they take periodic breaks to check on the stomach and to be honest he's pretty tired and kind of having a bit of a _day_ and a little brainless machine-work feels pretty good, is all he's saying. But yeah, he hadn't really figured on facing Hannibal for the first time flat on his back on the floor, all machine-greasy and sweaty and maybe burned and...

"Snap out of it, kid," and Hannibal prods him in the side with gold toes.

"Yeah, sorry, I didn't know it was you - I mean, I guess I should have guessed it was you? But anyway, sorry, dude, didn't mean to keep you waiting." Hannibal makes a satisfied sort of huff, so even if he doesn't mean to be running at the mouth, the big guy likes it, so that's something? Anyway, enough of this. Newt scrambles to his feet and tries not to feel weird as Hannibal stands there all stone-faced, watching him put down the soldering iron and strip off his gloves and yucky work-shirt that Li rustled up somewhere and made him put on even though it kind of smells like ass and charcoal and ammonia. He barely gets the chance to drop it on a stool before Hannibal reaches out to grab his wrist and yowch, ok, yeah, that made him yelp a little because maybe he burned himself a tiny bit through the glove after all? Hannibal notices, though - his mouth ticks down on one side and he moves his grip to Newt's elbow, changes direction a little bit. Newt's finally getting his bearings, at least, because he'd bet money that he had been about to be dragged to the little balcony but now they're headed toward the weird little Wayne Manor Washroom off to the side. Yep. Called it.

Once the door's closed, Hannibal lets out a heavy sigh and turns slow, really slow, to face Newt, like it's a chore. "What'd you do now, kid?"

And that's... not very specific? "Er, I mean, I guess I've done lots of stuff, but just now you caught me - or found me, I guess, Li asked me to do it, scout's honor - but anyway, I working on a grinder because Li said she could use the capacity if it wouldn't be a hard fix, which it wasn't, mostly, just some burned-out wires and I robbed the closet for parts for the blades, which I'm pretty sure was kosher, but..."

Hannibal palms Newt's shoulder, gives a little shake. "I meant what'd you do to your wrist, moron."

"Oh, that?" And he's giggling a stupid, nervous giggle, ugh, stop it, Newt. "It's no biggie - just tagged myself with the soldering iron when you surprised me out there, but I had gloves on, it's not really a thing..."

And Hannibal sighs and mutters something under his breath, hits whatever weird little secret knob there is that makes the crazy revolving medicine cabinet revolve on out of the wall. Newt takes a moment to really look at his wrist. "Ok, no, it's nothing, it really is, just a little redness, like we're talking sunburn style, here. I mean, if you have some cold water lying around, maybe..."

"Can do a little better than that," and Newt can't get anything from Hannibal's tone, which is unnerving, and his face is just as blank, but he's fishing out a bottle of what's pretty clearly aloe vera - nothing else comes in that brand of goop-green, although who even knows around this place. Hannibal furrows his brow at Newt, and yeah, weird, he's not a mind-reader, dude.

He kind of sticks his wrist out, into the light thrown off by the inside the medicine cabinet, so Hannibal can see for himself how much of a not-big-deal this is, which must be working because the face-furrowing is no longer a thing. "See, it's not really..."

And then he shuts up, because Hannibal's gently holding his wrist with one hand and scooping into the aloe vera with the other. Newt's tired, but not so tired that he lets himself make a joke about _playing doctor_ because Hannibal's acting kind of weird and subdued and who knows how that would go over, but the silence is pretty unnerving, and so, "Hey, thanks," and Hannibal grunts at him but he's so gentle with the way he's rubbing the aloe on and it's kind of scattering Newt's thoughts, honestly, he's forgotten what he was gonna say and his throat feels dry when he swallows, but hey, gentle, gentle is good, right, and he's getting it together in three, two, one. "We have got to stop meeting this way," he tries, and come on, but Hannibal doesn't even crack a smile.

"You got that right. You gotta be more careful," and that's so unfair, it's like the opposite of fair, in fact.

"Says the guy who kicked me while I was welding," and Hannibal gives his wrist a warning tug. "Fine, fine, you're a busy guy and all that good stuff. I said I was sorry, dude, what do you..." And yeah, that was definitely at least half of a growl, so, um, time to change tacks. "Maybe we could come up with a code or something? Like, you need me for something when I'm elbows-deep in a machine and can't see you, you do shave and a haircut, and it's gonna have to be kicking, but, like, gentle kicking, ok, don't sneak up on a guy..." And finally, finally, Hannibal's smiling, even if he looks kind of pissed off about it, which is a pretty hilarious face, all told, so Newt lets himself crack a grin. "See?" he says tugging against Hannibal's hold on his wrist. "Good as new."

"Christ, kid, it's like you're tryin' to get an infection," Hannibal grumbles, and what?

"Yeah, no, what?" At least he's got his wrist back, and moment to kind of get a handle on things, because Hannibal's wiping his hands off on a paper towel and fishing around in the medicine cabinet for something else. A sterile pad, it looks like, and some tape, which is serious overkill, but maybe explains the infection thing, at least.

"Ditch the bracelets," Hannibal orders, hand sneaking suspiciously toward pockets-that-are-clearly-full-of-knives and, yeah, no.

Newt cradles his wrist up against himself and blocks off access with his good hand. "No can do, boss man - these don't come off, if they even can, anymore, it's been years..." Hannibal tilts his head, makes an interrogative kind of noise, and damn it, there's Newt's nervous laugh again. "It's just... You know tissue replication was kind of my thing, right? Well, you're looking at the product of one of my first big breakthroughs. It's cool stuff - prettymuch leather, you know, but it's souped up and sheds moisture and a lot of chemicals, which is pretty handy if you're me, and I just..." And there's a big finger, slipping beneath one of the strips of lab-grown leather so Hannibal can feel on it, pinch it between finger and thumb, which also means that he's rubbing Newt's wrist and geez, that's... apparently a sensitive spot, and it turns out that no matter how mixed up his head is about The Hannibal Situation his dick is really sure about what it wants even if this is prettymuch the definition of _not the time._ Right, so, "I mean, I made it, but I didn't _make_ it, you know, I had this weird artist friend who did tanning, actually he did my first tattoo, too..."

"Yeah?" And Hannibal moves in closer but not so close that Newt feels like he ought to back up or anything, except maybe he should because wow, yeah, this is going in that kind of direction and so much for the slowing of the roll? Except it's not like Hannibal's putting the mack on, not like he had before. Which is good, right? "Which one was that?"

And, oh, geez, he had to go and run his mouth, and he can feel himself blush, but he makes himself smack his left butt-cheek in a totally jaunty way. "Part of the formula for this bad boy," he says, tugging against Hannibal's hold on the bracelet.

And Hannibal's grip grows way hard, all of a sudden, and yeah, that's a pretty quiet growl on the Hannibal Chau Scale but Newt's in close enough to hear it regardless. "That kinda 'friend,' huh?"

And that startles a laugh out of him, a real one, thank god, and not one of the breathy nervous ones he's been rocking. "No, nothing like that, just a standard-issue band buddy. It's just..." And yeah, there's that blush back again, because this is science-awesome but not maybe exactly _cool_ but that's life, man. "So, um, I was kinda working off an actual cow, and my first big success was sort of from a sample from the left flank, so..."

Hannibal gives an honest chuckle at that and the weird tension saps away like it was never there in the first place. "You're a piece of work," he says, but he's carefully pushing the bracelets out of the way and reaching for the gauze, so. "All your ink science-related?" It's totally not that weird to brace an arm against Hannibal for balance, right? Well, it's either that or risk tripping or wriggling or something, with the way Hannibal's tugging on him while he gets close enough to see where he's putting the gauze pad. "Come on, punk, answer me."

"Oh, right, um, what was the question again?"

Hannibal huffs, all amused. "And they say you're a genius. Your ink..."

Ah, right, he's got this. "Oh, right, yeah, they're all science or science-adjacent. I mean, that's kind of my thing."

"Wouldn't mind hearing a little more about 'em sometime," and that's a Meaningful Look if even Newt's seen one.

And so of course he's running right out of Coolsville and into Blushtown because, yeah, the implication there is pretty clear. "Um, yeah, that is a thing that we could do? I mean, I'd like to hear move about..." And he kind of gestures at the old, long-faded mark behind Hannibal's ear. "Unless, if that's... I know ink is pretty personal, so..."

"Yours sure as hell is," and there's a snort-laugh, and Hannibal flicks Newt's pinky ring with his thumb. "What's this mean?"

A little chuckle and, "Oh, that thing? No deep dark secrets there. I just bought it off some guy on the street 'cuz it looks cool." Hannibal snorts and tugs on the ring a little, and ok, fine, so there's a little bit of green left behind on his skin, but, hello, chemicals and cheap rings are not always the best of friends.

Hannibal kind of sneers, though, and, mutters "cheapskate" and yeah, no.

"Not cool, dude, we can't all of us splash out for the real deal..."

Hannibal laughs outright at that. "Not if you work for nothin', that's for sure," and uh-oh, something about that made the guy frown.

Newt tugs his hand back, just in case, and that makes Hannibal furrow up his brow which is not optimal. It's awkward, now, and just better to look at the gauze on his wrist, which he can't resist prodding and that only hurts a tiny bit. "Thanks, dude, you have a second career as a doctor ahead of you."

Hannibal kind of smiles - it barely qualifies, honestly, but he doesn't sound pissed or anything. "That'd be the day." A long, awkward, pause, and Newt can't help but shift his weight a little and Hannibal heaves a heavy sigh. "Got somethin' for you," and he's fishing in his vest, comes up with a few pages of what looks like a printout. His jaw tightens and he's gripping the pages awfully tight, but he hands it over when Newt makes grabby hands.

 _Not much by way of teeth - some big ones on the outside, but they weren't too sharp - left some bruises but didn't tear my suit,_ he reads and, ow, wow, this must be... "Is this what I think it is?"

Hannibal kind of chuckles and yeah, Newt's excited, maybe enough to be hopping around a little but shut up, there's exactly one person who's ever seen a living kaiju from the inside and who wouldn't be _beyond excited_ to read about what that was like? "Keep your shorts on. Meant to edit that before I handed it over, but..." Hannibal shrugs. "No time, and I figured you'd want it sooner."

"You figured right," and Hannibal makes a checked motion, like he was gonna ruffle Newt's hair and stopped himself which is also a win, and totally worth giving a thumbs-up.

Except that earns him a chuckle and a hair-ruffle after all. Can't win 'em all. "I'm warnin' you now that the dictation software's a little screwy, but I wasn't exactly in a position to type and I wanted to get that down before the morphine kicked in."

"Geez, dude, that's hardcore," and Hannibal chuckles again, a weird little indulgent smile creeping on to his face and yeah, this is prettymuch the best. Newt knocks a shoulder into him, gently because bruising, yeah, he hadn't thought about that but who knows what's hiding under that suit but right now it probably ain't pretty.

And that's a train of thought heading in the wrong direction because under suits, and yeah, yikes, there goes his stupid blushy face again. Hannibal's either nice enough to ignore it or can't see it too well in the bad light, because he doesn't react at all, and yeah, silence, weird silence, and that starts Newt to giggling which is the worst but he's not good with tension, ok?

Hannibal shifts, and he's all business now, stone-cold serious. "We good, kid?"

"Yeah, totally," he says, kind of automatically, and Hannibal's smiling and kind of shifting into his space, but wait, though, "Except... My job situation is complicated, ok, you were right, they gave me a really shitty offer, but I have to worry about Hermann, too, so I don't really have an answer which I know is not what you want to..."

Hannibal cuts him off with a low growl, rocking back on his heels a little bit. "Not talking about business, kid. I mean, are we good?"

"Oh, like," and Newt waves his hands in a you-and-me-and-the-sexy-makes-three kind of way but Hannibal's rumpling his face so maybe that's less than clear and yeah, Newt, use your words. "I mean, yes? So long as it's ok that I don't know whether you're the boss man or just the man, right..."

"Separate things, doc. Told you, didn't I?" and that's a frustrated sort of face.

Which is really not optimal, so, "I mean, sort of? But you're telling me now, and so I'm telling you now that yeah, we're good, like, on the you and me front..."

And that's all the warning he gets before Hannibal's hauling him in and dropping his head down, but it's up to Newt to go up on tiptoe and this is a circuit he's pretty sure he wants to complete even if it's a pretty horrible idea, according to basically everyone, but counterpoint - awesome kisses, even this one, brief and closed-mouthed and there's something buzzing in Hannibal's vest that makes Newt giggle into it, which startles Hannibal into laughing, too. "Not the reaction I was goin' for," and Hannibal's teeth glint in a grin.

"You're ringing," and Newt's grinning, right up in Hannibal's face, so close it's making him go a little cross-eyed.

"Nothing that can't wait," Hannibal rumbles and wow, yeah, hands, hands under his butt, hauling him up that last little bit so they can kiss for real this time, deep and slow and dammit, there goes that phone again and he can't help it, he's laughing again.

"Sorry, sorry," he gasps, and the words brush his lips against Hannibal's and that feels really fucking awesome, actually. "That really does tickle."

"Moron," Hannibal grumbles, but in a warm, melty kind of way, even if he's easing Newt back flat on the floor and patting at his pocket for the phone, drawing it up close to his face to see who's calling. He hisses out a breath between clenched teeth. "Gimme a sec," and he takes a couple steps away, turns his back and the phone's up against his ear now.

Newt feels a little weird for a second, because, hey, don't mind him, just kicking around here in this empty room, but then he remembers he's got first-person-observational gold right there in his hot little hand, except, wait, somebody's pounding on the door. Hannibal looks pretty engrossed in his conversation, so he heads over to try to answer it but, well, how do you even open these things, there's not an obvious catch...

"Sorry to interrupt your seven minutes in heaven," and it's muffled but, yeah, that's clearly JJ hollering through the door, "but it's check-in time, so..."

"Bet you're real sorry," Newt mutters, and scrabbles at the door a little bit before giving it up as a bad job and just cupping his hands to holler. "Everything's fine, but Hannibal's a little busy and I don't know how to open the door, so..."

"Right," JJ hollers.

"No, seriously, I don't know..." and then, wow, that was fast, the heavy door swings right at him and he barely has time to jump out of the way. A pissed-looking Li levels a glare at him and swings to frown at JJ, muttering something about work and disruptions and stomps back onto the workroom floor.

JJ eyes him up-and-down in a very I-know-what-you-did-last-summer kind of way, and that is one heck of an obnoxious smirk but Newt's an adult, he can do what he wants, and he's not gonna shift around like he's got something to hide. He just grins back, a little insolent, and JJ shakes her head and cranes her neck, takes in Hannibal hunched over his phone. "See?" Newt says, and fishes his phone out of his pocket for the time. "Seven fifteen and all's well."

JJ dips her head, kind of half-assedly apologetic. "I can't check in unless I've got eyes on you," and that's kind of bullshit.

"Come on, dude, I told you..."

But JJ shakes her head, half-shrugs. "I don't make the rules."

She kind of gestures toward the workroom and yeah, maybe, but Hannibal's still on the phone, so... "Uh, we're not done?"

"Bet you aren't," and yeah, that's definitely a smirk, but at least she's turning to leave, knocking her hand pointedly on the open door as she saunters away. He doesn't resist the urge to stick his tongue out at JJ's retreating back because ugh, it's a conspiracy. A vast, cockblocky conspiracy.

And ok, fine, maybe he yelped a little, but how does a guy Hannibal's size move so quietly? He wasn't expecting the hand on his shoulder, is all, but he lets himself be tugged back toward the medicine cabinet. Hannibal looks like he's about to say something but then he curses, frowns down at his vest and yeah, the phone's clearly ringing again. "Busy day?" Newt asks.

Hannibal shakes his head. "That ain't the half of it. Half my suppliers are goin' chickenshit and that's settin' aside the buyers that are all worked up now that the gravy train's come to a halt. Thanks for that, punk."

Newt snorts. "Yeah, sorry I inconvenience you in the process of, oh, saving all humankind."

"Smartass," but Hannibal's laughing, a warm palm dropping down to cup Newt's shoulder. "You're just lucky you made my prices shoot through the roof."

"Yeah, yeah," Newt laughs, leaning into Hannibal's side.

That gets him a chuckle, even if it's interrupted by some more curses aimed in the direction of his phone. "I'm gonna be tied up the rest of the day, looks like. Maybe I'll see you tonight, punk?"

"Sounds nice," he agrees, and Hannibal turns on him, looming down and oh, that face is nothing but promise.

"Just you wait," he growls, cupping Newt's face in his hand. Newt turns into it, nips at the palm because two can play this game, dude.

A loud exhale. "You're trouble," Hannibal rumbles, gives his face a soft little slap. And then he's off, striding into the workroom and barking in Cantonese and that's totally for the best because Newt's fresh out of clever comebacks, anyway.

He trails out into the workroom, pointedly ignoring JJ's knowing leer. He's scoping around for a corner to hide in while he reads Hannibal's little memoir but Li's voice cuts across the noise of the workshop. "My grinding machine, Dr. Newt," and he tries to wave his papers but Li just points, adamant, and he knows when he's beat.

"All right, all right," he calls, and maybe you could describe him as scampering, but Li's making awful faces and he just needs to drop this off real quick. "Keep an eye on this, will you?" and he hands his papers to JJ, who looks awfully interested.

"Chop chop," is all she says, and Li's starting to head his way, so he makes surrender hands and heads back over to the grinder machine. "No rest for the wicked," he mutters, and everyone ignores him but Li gives him a thumbs-up, so, victory. Sort of. He'll take it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all... OMG OMG. Is it crass to be this excited about crossing the 200-kudo threshold? WHATEVER. I am comfortable in my crassness because that is the level best, you guys! I just... I cannot even convey the level of my excitement. I am so *jazzed* that folks are reading and enjoying and I can't even tell you how much *fun* I've been having talking and comment-ficcing with you all! Life is better with Newt Playing the Keytar, BATTLE TAILOR, Raleigh And Hermann: Breakfast Buddies and all of the fun-as hell mayhem going on in the comment section, courtesy you folks! It really kept me going in the process of finishing this chapter, and I want to apologize for the delay, but I expect it won't be typical because I had a couple of misadventures. First there was the saga of Too Much Exposition With JJ - I had to scrap a few thousand words because it just wasn't really working, even if it's good background in the end. And then there was some jerk at my hookah bar who decided that the already-playing Arabic music was not enough; he just went ahead and blasted thrash-metal, without headphones, which clashed horribly with the existing soundtrack and it really threw me off to the tune of burning a writing evening while I glared at him but did not gin up the courage to ask him to bust out some headphones. In the end, I think it was all to the better, because I am pretty jazzed for this chapter, if that's not jerky to say! Gosh, the burn is slowwwwww but I think you can tell that it's heading toward *delicate cough* a main event in the near-ish future! I hope that you got a kick out of reading this chapter and I'd love to talk to you about it!
> 
> ANYWAY. I have been having such fun in Pacific Rim fandom in general and with this fic in specific! I even got inspired to procure a couple of three-day passes to New York Comic Con, and have successfully press-ganged some friends to join me. I may try to cobble together a little Newt suit (I'd love to do Hannibal but I haven't got anything in the right color scheme! Ugh, it's killing meeeee because i have a bunch of great tailored suits and Asian-inspired dresses but, alas, I am no Mr. Chau and so red and gold they ain't). On that note, if you know where I can find any information about Pacific Rim photocalls or meetups at the con, I'd be greatly in your debt! I'm sure there are some but my searches have so far been fruitless, in all likelihood because I am not a Tumblr whiz. And if any of you folks are going and might want to say hi, give me the high sign! confusedkayt@gmail.com if you would rather not do so in the comments. :D
> 
> Ok, I am rambling, but I don't want to stop without saying thank you in as many words because I honestly cannot recall the last time I have had so much fun. This is the best and you are the best and thank you so much for talkin' Pacific Rim with me!


	13. In The Dark Of The Night (Evil Will Find You)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Timing: This takes place the night after Chapter 12, so between 9 and 10 days post V-K Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings/promises (that are spoilery so you may wish to avoid): This chapter is where this story starts to really earn its adult rating, which means sexytimes (stop at Hannibal's golden door if you'd rather not read those) and Hannibal and Newt are not great with communication, so there's some mild dom/sub that happens without anything by way of pre-negotiation. It's quite mild - a couple of "sirs" slip in and Hannibal uses his body to restrict Newt's range of motion- and both parties are very enthusiastically consenting with lots of check-ins along the way, so.

"Shut it down, Geiszler," and even if the word are mean JJ's tone is kind. "Its time for actual sleep in an actual room."

"Come on," and he's whining but it's mostly just for show and JJ's grin is soft enough that he's pretty sure she knows it, too. "I've still got some gas in the tank..."

"Tell that to someone who hasn't seen you nod off and drop your papers." And Newt makes a face but JJ shakes her head. "Repeatedly. You dropped them repeatedly."

"I agree," Li says, when did she even get over here, and anyway that's not on because she's got circles under her eyes and is clearly not turning it in anytime soon if the number of techs swirling around the workroom floor is anything to go by. "Go to bed, Dr. Newt. I need you capable of operating my machines safely tomorrow."

He grumbles but gets up from the little folding stool that he might - _might_ \- have nodded off on a few times. Li gives a satisfied little nod and turns, calls for someone or other. One of the red-hatband guys shifts himself off from his slouch against the wall and beckons for them to follow him, and JJ moves in close enough to bump arms with him. "I'm not gonna bolt," he mutters, and she gives him a look.

"You say that now, but wait until you realize you forgot to take a measurement or dropped a page and oh god I'm giving you ideas," and JJ's laughing, so Newt jabs her with an elbow but grins too because, yeah, accurate.

They don't get very far before hatband-guy is waving them into a room and no sooner do they step inside than he closes the door behind them. There's a clunking sound, a locking sort of sound, and JJ glares at the door. "Can't say I love that."

A nervous little laugh escapes him. "Yeah, maybe they're just afraid I'll take off and break into their super secret labs at night..."

"Sure," JJ says, agreeable, but she doesn't look too pleased and what's he supposed to do about that? Nothing much, probably, but hey, bedroom, this time with real beds, or more accurately what was probably supposed to be bed, singular - there's only one headboard, but it must have been a split mattress because somebody's managed to shove the pieces like six inches apart. "Dibs," JJ hollers, tossing her clipboard onto the one closest to the door and holy crap, that's a good throw from ten feet away.

"Not gonna argue with you," and he fakes covering his head, which gets him a chuckle. Score.

JJ saunters up to her bed and fusses around a little. "Silk sheets. Color me unsurprised."

Newt snorts, but what if that's like, the good bed, but no, the other one has silk sheets, too. They're red, because of course they are, and the pillows are all weird and embroidered and can you even wash something like that, unless they're just new every time which is... distinctly possible, actually, and let's not kid ourselves, it's not like Newt's the pickiest guy anyway and this sure beats yesterday's cots.

"Annnnnd I'm guessing these aren't for me." 

And then there's something hitting his head, but not hard, although he yelps anyway because seriously, "Ok, I get it, super accurate ninja throwing skills, geez," he grumbles and JJ laughs at him while he scrambles around to collect the pieces of her air-to-head missile. Huh. It's pajamas - nice ones, pretty heavy, red silk with little gold dragons embroidered all over them but not in a scratchy way.

"Somebody liiiiikes you," and JJ's teasing but he blushes anyway because, yeah, he'd bet a dollar he knows who left these for him, or sent them, or whatever, and what's wrong with his Jaeger pjs but, well, these are awful nice.

He's about to shrug of his shirt and throw the pjs on but, wait, right, stripping in front of your possibly-ninja colleagues is not recommended. "Uh, can you maybe..." and there is no need to make eye contact while making a turn-around gesture, nosiree.

"Or you can go change in the bathroom like a normal person," and wait, what, but JJ's pointing at a section of the wall that's a little offset from the rest and oh, yeah, clearly a door now that he looks at it.

"Right on," he says, with dignity, but JJ snickers anyway.

"They don't do situational awareness in science school?" and yeah, he's not gonna dignify that with a response.

It takes a couple minutes to figure out how to close the door - there's not exactly a handle, and it's dark in there, ok, and maybe he should get on the light situation, but then he touches the right thing or something and the door slides shut more or less on its own and that triggers the lights, apparently. "Ha!" because the bathroom is _ridiculous_ \- wood everywhere and lots of red leather insets but that's par for the course in this joint. However - and this is a big however, because this is seriously the awesomest - who installs _gold toilets_ in their dubious guestrooms? Who even sells gold toilets to install, if it comes to that, and he can't help but flick the thing and sure enough it rings like real metal. Ridiculous, but also ridiculously awesome, very Diamonds Are Forever. He whips off his t-shirt - and man, the lack of laundry is really biting his style, but he's sort of scared to ask Hermann if he can throw his dress shirts in next time - and slides into the pajama top. It feels really nice, not gonna lie - nice enough that it seems like a waste to leave his underpants on but, yeah, the possibility of having to walk past JJ with a morning stiffy is a little too real to risk it. Even so, the pants feel just as good as the shirt does, enough that he doesn't really mind that he has to fold them up if he doesn't want to risk tripping himself on his way to bed. It's... a little creepy, actually, because he thought he'd been keeping track of his bag and stuff but yeah, that's clearly his own toothbrush and razor on the edge of the sink. Further confirming JJ's awesomeness, or maybe somebody's sense of humor, the other toothbrush is shaped like a little lightsaber. Owch - yeah, laughing while brushing is not a great plan, toothpaste up his nose stings like a bitch, and we're done here, right? Right. He can shave tomorrow.

"Took you long enough," JJ grumbles, but the companionable slap to his shoulder on her way into the bathroom is good evidence that she's not actually pissed.

Now that he's winding down a little, he's really tired, like hard-to-keep-his-eyes-open tired. Right. Going to bed. Not that he's gonna turn the lights off on JJ or anything, but everything in this place is all hidden and weird so might as well start looking for the lightswitch. It's not obvious, because that would be too easy, so he settles for dragging his hands along the wall at random, hoping his fingers will catch on the right lever or secret carving or whatever because there is no damn way he's hollering through the door for help tucking himself in.

"Whatcha doing?" and there's JJ. He's disappointed for a sec that her jammies are just plain black, but wait, there's a big ol' "JJ" in silver embroidery on the front pocket so, nope, still awesome. "Cool pjs!" he enthuses and she pretends to look all put upon but doesn't hesitate to give him five. Wait, what - for some reason the lights have dimmed and wait, no, that would be too hilarious, can it even be... Newt claps, two loud sharp slaps, and yep, here comes the dark.

"Clap on, clap off," he snickers and JJ's cracking up too, even as she claps again to give them enough light to make their way to bed. There's a lot of shuffling and rustling and getting all tucked in - jeez louise, somebody believes in hospital corners - and then JJ claps the lights off. Nope, never gonna stop being funny.

He's already most of the way asleep but JJ's talking or something. "Mmmm?"

"I _said_ , this room's clearly bugged, but dunno if I'll catch you by yourself between here and there, so I'm asking you now - everything good?"

"Totally good," and his voice cracks on the yawn he can't fight off. "Totally."

Annnnd that's a pillow whacking into him. "Again with the throwing," he bitches. "Though I was supposed to go to sleep..."

JJ cuts him off, unsympathetic to the sleep-o-clockness of it all. "I'm asking, you're safe? Hannibal treating you good? You need me to step in, I can stick to you and make things awkward, you just say the word..."

"Naw," and he's yawning again but he's gonna fight it because, yeah, enough with that. "Thanks, it's cool you have my back but, uh, not necessary. In fact, if you could kind of..." And right, JJ can't see the gesture he's making, bed and dark and god he's sleepy. "Maybe you could, like, do the opposite of that? Because my cock has been blocked enough, dude..."

"Auuuugh," JJ groans, and hopefully that's just for show? "Stop right there, Geiszler, I get the picture."

"Good," and maybe that was all slurred so, "good," and that was louder and yeah, everything's good, especially this bed and this pillow. Very good.

Ugh. Finally, finally there is sleeping but there are also hands, why are there hands, hands on his shoulder, and just, "G'way, JJ," he mutters and makes slappy hands but JJ only grips tighter and kind of shakes him and there's a light kind of shining in his eyes which, ugh. "Ok, seriously, not cool," and there's a chuckle that distinctly did not come from a JJ-type-person. Newt forces his eyes open and yep, welp, there's Hannibal, shining light from his phone down on Newt's face and just, what. What is happening. "Um, hi?"

"Hey, kid," and Hannibal's smiling, lots of teeth, way too chipper for ass-o-clock. 

"What time is it," and yeah, he's slurring, but actually he feels that weird feeling you get when you wake up after you've been asleep for a while but not nearly long enough.

"Late," is all Hannibal says, still grinning away. "Let's go for a walk." He frowns when Newt doesn't immediately move. "Shake a leg."

"Ok, ok," and that yawn's so hard his jaw's cracking with it. Yikes. But he manages to roll out of bed and the floor's cold which makes him let out a little yeep and Hannibal sighs in a put-upon way.

"Put on your slippers."

His laugh is too loud - sorry, JJ, except who is he kidding, she's probably been awake since the door opened. "Slippers? Dude, you seriously overestimate my level of preparedness..."

Hannibal shakes his head and kind of stomps over to JJ's bed, kicks around under there and yeah, she's _definitely_ awake now. "Here, kid," and Newt minces over - the floor really is cold - and sort of fumbles himself into puffy-feeling slippers. It's not what he'd call a smooth process but you know what? He just woke up, ok.

Hannibal's tugging at his elbow, and, wait. "Hey JJ," Newt whispers, except loudly, so why is he whispering, but it feels like the thing to do.

"Yeah?" And that is totally an awake sort of yeah, which he feels a little guilty about, actually, although this is not even his fault. Well, maybe he's the cause of it, technically, but it's not his doing, so like... one third his fault. At most.

"I'm going for a walk," he whispers, and there's a sleeping chuckle.

"A walk. Ok. Chau, you bring him back in one piece in the morning."

"Hey," he squeaks but Hannibal drowns him out with a chuckle and a "You got it." He ought to be madder about about yet again being talked about like he's not there, but he's too busy trying to walk without tripping over his stupid pajamas and, yeah, now that they're out in the hallway he's gonna take five.

"Gimme a sec?" he requests and Hannibal huffs but stops walking and Newt's not too good to drop to the floor and cuff up his pajama pants where he's kicked them free in his sleep, and shove what are apparently gold puffy dragon slippers more firmly only his feet. They're open in the back - he hates that, because he steps out of stuff like that too easily, flip-flops are the worst and these don't even have the little toe-thingy for grip, but hey, beggars can't be choosers.

Hannibal's looking at him funny, all furrowing and soft but not quite smiling, somehow, when he straightens up. "All right," he offers, and Hannibal drapes an arm around him and leads him deeper into the complex. It doesn't escape Newt's attention that his view of where they're going exactly is blocked off, but honestly he can't bring himself to care much - all of his brainpower's devoted to waking the heck up and trying not to shuffle right out of his slippers, which are certainly slippery enough to deserve the name. Hannibal's weirdly quiet and yeah, all Newtrons back online, so, "Hey, dude, why are you up so late?"

A rumbly chuckles shakes Newt in a way he's pretty into, actually. "Time zones. It's a bitch to keep up with the overseas calls these past couple days."

Newt yawns right into Hannibal's sleeve, which gets him hip-checked but whatever. "You're awfully chipper, though, what, are you taking power naps?"

"Yeah, and a little coke," and Newt stiffens a little without meaning to. Hannibal shifts around a little. "Kills the pain," and his voice is even but yeah, now Hannibal's seriously stiffening, grip suddenly hard on Newt's arm.

That's clearly a sore subject - sore, heh - and yeah, not touching that. "Uh, where are we going?"

Hannibal relaxes, just like that, thumb stroking against Newt's arm absently. "My bedroom." A pause. "That all right with you?"

"Um, _yeah,_ " and wow, yeah, way to be cool, Newt.

Hannibal doesn't seem to care, at least, chuckling in a with-you-not-at-you sort of way. "Haven't snuck off like this since high school." Newt giggles a little and Hannibal squeezes him. "You like that, huh, thinkin' 'bout sneaking out of your parents' house..."

"First time for everything," and Hannibal stops stock-still. "Oh! Wait, no, not like, first time for the making of the sex, nope, no blushing virgins here, well, actually I can't guarantee there won't be blushing, but that's not the operative fact, and uh, anyway, the sneaking out not so much? Especially from my parents' house, I was like twelve when I started at MIT and uh, my cousin was not exactly a hands-on type of caretaker so there wouldn't have been sneaking even if I had someone to sneak _to_ which, yeah, not so much, at least for a few years because, hello, puberty and I wasn't exactly rolling in people my own age?" Hannibal isn't saying anything which is... not awesome, actually, and this had better not be a problem, it's not like it's a secret and come on, Hannibal clearly checked up on him, right? Right? "Uh, there's not a lot of sneaking in dorms, which, even though I was a grad student they let me do the dorm thing, you know, considering, at least until I started teaching but everybody just sort of agreed that that would be too weird until I cleared my teens at least, and, um..."

"Relax," and that's a cuddly sort of movement which honestly does calm Newt down a little. "Just didn't think it through, what it'd be like for a little Doogie Howser like you."

"Not that kind of doctor," and that's a nervous giggle but everything seems to be more or less ok, so, yeah. "Except, well, medical research, so close, I s'pose, and I guess I do know human anatomy..."

"I'm bankin' on it," Hannibal interrupts and ok, Newt's cracking up in earnest now because that's...

"Oh my god, that's so corny. Look at you, you cornball!" and Hannibal squeezes on him again.

"You set it up," he grunts, still chuckling and then they're grinding to a halt in front of...

"Seriously?" Newt says, which gets him pinched but, yeah, 'seriously' is the right word because this door is just wrought gold, and way tall - like floor to ceiling tall. "I feel like I should be saying Open Sesame or something..."

Hannibal snorts. "Try, 'can I come in, Mr. Chau?'"

And Newt giggles but Hannibal just fixes him with a look and kind of tilts his head. "Really, dude?" and Hannibal doesn't move, although his mouth is totally twitching but Newt's not patent enough to wait out that clearly-brewing laugh. "Can I come in, Mr. Chau?"

"Lucky you," Hannibal snorts, and kind of blocks off whatever he's doing over at the wall by turning in front of it and whatever, dude, who wants your secret Open Sesame codes anyway.

Then Hannibal's pushing him in, big old hand at the small of Newt's back, and flicking on a light-switch. "No clap on-clap off for you?" and that was not meant to be said, but Hannibal just kind of snorts and steps away which, what?

"Drink?" he asks, heading over to a huge bar - dark woods and mirrors and about a million bottles, or whatever it is you call those crazy cut-crystal things that are sort of like bottles but they have stoppers and not twist-tops, and how does Hannibal remember what's what? "Earth to Geiszler," and, oh, yeah, right. "Drink?"

He takes a second to think about that but, "No thanks, dude, I think it'd just put me to sleep," which is not suave but it's true.

"In that case, that's the bedroom," and Hannibal's pointing and Newt turns to look and oh, wow, yeah, Newt wants to take a minute - wait, five minutes, or maybe all the minutes, actually, to look around because this place is nuts - fur rugs and gold glinting off of everything and there's a little sunken part in the middle of the room where you have to walk down three steps to get on a couch which is facing - holy shit, how does a gold fireplace even work, that can't be functional, and then there's fingers snapping in his face. "The bedroom, kid, did I stutter?"

Newt smiles, and it feels a little uncertain, but, "Sorry, it's just, your place, it's..." He gestures, expansive, because _holy shit._ "It's... wow."

Hannibal snorts, and it sounds like a pleased sort of snort. "Bedroom," he repeats and Newt swallows but musters up a smirk. "Yes, sir," he says, and he meant it all snarky-like but Hannibal _growls_ and yeah that's... a thing he's gonna remember to do again because that was not a usual growl, that was a prepare-for-ravishing growl, and he can get with the ravishment program and oh, right, bedroom. He only makes it a step before Hannibal's hand darts out, snags his pajamas, which makes him stumble but he recovers ok.

"Leave these on," he orders, rubbing the fabric of Newt's brand-new pjs between finger and thumb and Newt nods which is apparently enough because Hannibal lets him go and turns away which is... You know what? No. Newt's not gonna ask, and he's not gonna have to be told again. Bedroom.

He opens the door and can't help but laugh - but quietly, hopefully Hannibal can't catch it - because that's... Yeah, that's a _Bed._ There's some kind of glowing gold lantern/nightlight-y thing that's bright enough to make it possible to navigate over to the crazy thing because, yeah, that's run right past California King and into "you could fit five people in here, no problem" territory. Hong Kong King, probably. King Hannibal. Of course. It's too dark to see the bedding all that well, but there's definitely gold in there, picking up the light, and parts looks darker and yeah, he's definitely feeling some kind of fur down toward the footboard. Never let it be said that Hannibal Chau can't stay on-theme. And of course there's posts on the thing, and curtains, and the headboard's crazy elaborate, too, looks like the symbol on Hannibal's suits, actually. Newt runs curious fingers over it - wood, then, and not gold, which is kind of a letdown, almost. And there's - oh, wow, there's little chips in the bars of the headboard, but only here on the side, not in the middle, and on the other side too, and Newt flushes hot because - uh, yeah, those are the right distance for handcuffs, or something like them, holy shit, Hannibal must have had people in here, people he's splayed out and cuffed up and, uh, yeah, that's... an idea that is producing a downstairs situation. Said situation is uncomfortably reigned in by his undies and, yeah, he's got time, he'll just kick those off real quick because they're bound to get in the way, and it won't take a second, he'll just stand up and kick them off, but of course, because this is his life, Hannibal kicks the door open and flicks on the lights right after he's dropped trou.

"Uh," he says and snatches up the pants he's just dropped, holding them in front of himself because that's such an effective plan.

Hannibal growls and stalks over and Newt actually feels a prickle of nervousness because that's not what he'd describe as a friendly face. "Thought I told you to keep these on."

"So, you see, I just... underwear, I was going to take off the underwear," and he kicks at them, all crumpled on the floor, by way of demonstration. Hannibal's glasses are gone, so Newt can see his eyes track the movement and maybe his face is relaxing, which is good, so, "and I was gonna put the pants right back on before you got here but you kinda beat me to the punch..."

"Good thinkin'," Hannibal rumbles and he's advancing and Newt finds himself backing up toward the bed and he just lets himself fall back when the backs of his knees touch it.

Hannibal leans over him and grins, a danger-danger hungry sort of grin and Newt shivers and he's about to reach up but... "Dude did you, like, change into pajamas?" Which is a stupid question because, yeah, red silk and black print and buttoned up all the way to the top, over the notch in his throat just like Hermann's stupid shirts and wow, yeah, Hermann comparisons in the bedroom equals not optimal and so he makes grabby hands for the buttons. "Why? I mean, snazzy, but I was kind of hoping..."

Hannibal reaches out to grab his wrists, though. "Think it through, doc. I'm all taped up and covered in anti-kaiju creme besides. Real sexy stuff." Hannibal gives Newt's wrists a squeeze. "These stay on tonight. That a problem?" And Hannibal's jaw's all clenched and his grip's too hard and this has the feelings of a dealbreaker so Newt just shakes his head and the pressure on his wrists eases up just a little bit. "Good." And then he's manhandling Newt over so he's lying on the bed properly, somewhere in the middle and god, Hannibal's fast when he wants to be, up and over Newt just like that, pressed along Newt but not resting on him, just enough to feel it and oh god the silk covering Hannibal's good against Newt's cock. Yeah, that's nice, one big arm reaching around to cradle Newt, take most of his weight, the hand reaching up to tangle in Newt's hair. Hannibal pushes down a little, and Newt's got to bend back, catches himself on his elbows, and there's that dangerous grin again and Hannibal fists his hand in Newt's hair and tugs his head back with it. "Uuuuf," and that's... yeah, that's a noise, that's a good noise, good job, Newt, with the making of that noise, and he can't really move much, all hemmed in by Hannibal and off-balance besides, and he kind of likes it that way. It's pretty perfect, actually, except, "Uh, my shirt..." and Hannibal pauses, which, maybe he's supposed to say it? "I mean, uh, should we take my shirt off, sir?" and yeah, that growl feels awfully good right up against his throat.

Hannibal drops his head, mouths at Newt's neck. "Nah," and yeah, lips brushing up against his neck, this is good, this is very good. "Leave it on. Like seeing you in my colors," and then there's teeth, and Hannibal's sucking a hard kiss right where Newt's neck peeks out of the pajama collar and Newt's kind of screaming a little bit maybe.

Hannibal chuckles, strokes one hand down Newt's side, teasing. Oh god, oh god. "I could, uh," and that hand's slipping across his bare belly, across his hips, it's so _close_...

"You could what, kid?" and the hand is stopping, why is it stopping. The hand tangled in his hair gives a little yank. "Answer me."

"I could put a red streak in my hair, if you..." and Hannibal's fingers are digging into Newt's belly but that's, uh, not a bad feeling. "If you wanted."

Hannibal's hips stutter down against Newt, hard. "You do that, doc," and then Hannibal yanks his back a little harder and presses up for a real kiss. It's demanding, all lips and tongue and motion and Newt can't move into it, his head's held still, he just has to lie back and that's... Yeah, teeth catching his lip, and he's making noises but nobody's around to hear probably and yes, that, just like that. "So listen, baby, here's how it's gonna be. It's late. We're not gonna get fancy. That all right with you?" And Hannibal's hand is trailing down, down, fingers in Newt's pubes now and almost, almost...

Right. Talking. Talking is a thing he is supposed to do. "Yes, good," he gasps but Hannibal's hand's not moving, why is that happening. "Good, very good, come on _please,_ Hannibal..."

"There we go baby," and then wait, no fair, Hannibal takes his hand back altogether but, oh, yeah, it's just so he can bring it up to spit in it which, also hot.

"I could lick it," he offers, shaky, and Hannibal chuckles, dark and deep.

"No need. Bet you're all slick already, been thinkin' about this all day." And there's not warning, no teasing, no nothing, just a big hand around Newt's cock, running over the head and yeah, there's enough to slick him, but not so much it's smooth, exactly, and that's, um, oh geez, oh geez, it's huge and it's rough and it's perfect and so fast and he's losing a little time here, maybe, but yeah, that's... "I think I'm... I'm almost... Let me, can I," he stutters and Hannibal chuckles and words are hard right now, ok, except he's chanting "Hannibal, Han, Han," and then there's a pause, why is there a pause, and then something soft, feels like silk, and it's between his cock and Hannibal and that's no good but it's different and not such a bad feeling and he's so close and then there are lips at his ear and Hannibal barks, "Go on, do it," and that's it, that's just... God bless nerve endings, god bless the mechanism of the human male orgasm and god bless Hannibal Chau because yes, that. Do it again, do it again.

It takes a minute before he's with it enough to open his eyes and Hannibal's still there, face near Newt's, grinning like he just won the state fair which, fair enough, good job Hannibal Chau, gold star, which is a thought he should probably express somehow. "Awesome," Newt breathes and arches up for a kiss. Hannibal obliges but it's a quick little thing - mouths barely open and oh, right, Hannibal sort of pointedly drags Newt's hand down to his fly. Wow. He's packing some heat, which is not exactly a surprise but it is a pleasure. Newt grins into the kiss and that startles a chuckle out of Hannibal. Newt tries to worm his way into Hannibal's pj pants but the angle is awful and there are what feels like buttons- button fly pajamas, what in the hell? - and it's kind of a lost cause so he's sort of reduced to feeling and squeezing and yeah, no shit, Hannibal's growl is impatient.

Hannibal sort of levers back and goes for his flies and wait, bandages and creme and maybe it would be better not to climb all over him, which is a damn shame and also not something Newt should say out loud but there's a solution here and everybody wins. "Could you maybe swing around, put your feet on the floor?"

And Hannibal grins at him, all teeth. "You wanna get on your knees for me, baby?" and he's all zingy from his recent orgasm but god damn he wishes he could go again because, yeah, yeah he does, a fact which he expresses by crawling to the edge of the bed and thudding down to his knees.

Hannibal growls, the good ravishy kind, and scoots over, plants a leg on either side of Newt. He's already worked his fly open and wow, yeah, that's something - Hannibal's huge, and thick, and already flushed an angry, leaky red. So much the better because that'll only fit in his mouth for so long; world saving and all that jazz, he's not exactly in practice, and oh, yeah, Hannibal's not exactly happy to be kept waiting.

Newt licks his lips and grins, catches Hannibal's eye before running his tongue all over the palm of his hand, slow and thorough and yeah, Hannibal's knotting his hands in the bedspread. Good. Newt reaches out to take him in hand and yeah, that feels good, god he's big and it's hot, the visual of it, red cock against green tattoos and actually, just for future reference... Newt shoves his arm up alongside Hannibal's cock and yep, sure enough. "The hell are you doin'?" Hannibal growls.

Newt can't help it - he cracks up a little. "Congrats, dude, you're bigger than Yamarashi."

Hannibal barks one short, surprised laugh, shakes his head. "Don't get weird," and he's shaking his head.

Newt kind of cackles. "Too late now," he says, but he's not a jerk so he also leans forward and Hannibal shifts a little, bends down so he can thread his hands in Newt's hair. Hannibal gives Newt's head a pointed little shove and he accidentally snickers but just for a sec before he gets with the program and leans forward to take the head of Hannibal's dick in his mouth.

It wasn't as bad of a fit as he'd worried and yeah, that's... It's a good view, is all he's saying. Hannibal's eyes have slipped closed, his teeth clenched shut. He's pulling Newt's hair a little, but it mostly feels good and there's thrusting which is gonna be choke-inducing if he doesn't watch out. There's an easy solution to that one; Newt reaches out, wraps a hand around Hannibal's cock about halfway up and yeah, the groan that gets is definitely of the good variety. It's been a while but not so long that he doesn't remember how to do it, how to run his tongue around the bottom of the head, how to lap at the perineal raphe when his jaw needs a little break, how to tease with his hand just so, pump and twist. It won't be long now - Hannibal's breathing hard and thrusting, almost enough to push past Newt's restraining hand but he's just barely in check, and, yeah, bitter pre-cum mixing with the slightly medicinal taste Hannibal's got going on and it won't be long now and sure enough, there's fingers pulling his hair now, yanking hard, and Hannibal's eyes snap open long enough to stare at Newt and then he _snarls_ and there's no other warning, just a mouthful of hot cum. Newt swallows what he can but he was kind of on the back end of a stroke and some of it got out on his face, and oh, right, it's good if you suck on the head a little bit right about now so he's gonna go ahead and do that and Hannibal growls, cups his cheek and thrusts a couple more times before shoving Newt back gently. "Christ," he sighs, and he's trying to pet at Newt's hair but misses and sort of pets his neck instead which is pretty nice, too.

Newt grins up at Hannibal. "Not bad, huh?"

A chuckle, and oh, he's pretty proud of the dazed-and-glazed look Hannibal's wearing. "You did good, kid." And there's a hand in his hair after all, soft and nice and it gives Newt the shivers and when did his eyes slip closed? He opens them again and Hannibal's smiling down at him, a good, soft smile that looks kind of foreign on his face. And then it's gone, replaced by a cocksure grin but hey, that's also good. "Now get up here." A pause. "And get the lights while you're at it."

"All right," and so what if he's feeling agreeable. It's not like Hannibal's making outlandish requests. He levers himself up off the floor and flicks off the perfectly-normal-except-it's-gold lightswitch and of course manages to bump into something in the ensuing darkness when trying to make it back to the bed and Hannibal's laughing at him but only a little, so that's all right.

"C'mere," and Hannibal's already got under the sheets, is holding them open, in fact, and that's a hell of an invitation. Newt crawls in and kind of cuddles up just to see, and not only does Hannibal not shove him off, he kind of maneuvers Newt around so he's on his side and his head's pillowed at the spot where Hannibal's arm meets the shoulder. It's surprisingly comfortable, and he's feeling warm and happy and kind of extra-daring so he digs his chin in to Hannibal's side and tips his head up for a kiss. It's not an unqualified success - Hannibal just turns his head, brushes his lips at Newt's hairline - but that makes him feel pretty good, to be honest. "I'll cut you a deal," Hannibal says, yawn clear in his voice. "Sleep now, bullshit tomorrow."

"I'm in," Newt agrees and burrows against Hannibal a little but, right, bandages - he can feel the lumps, kind of, so he eases back in what he hopes is a subtle way. Doesn't seem to matter much, in any case, because Hannibal's breathing evens out really quick. It's weirdly sweet, big bad gangster man all sexed out and sleepy after coming. But Newt's feeling pretty yawny, too, to be honest, and it's easy to just let the rhythm of Hannibal's breath ease him back to sleep too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG FINALLY. Even if there is still no nudity, there are orgasms and OMG I CANNOT EVEN BELIEVE I MANAGED TO WRITE THIS WITH A STRAIGHT FACE IN A PUBLIC HOOKAH CAFE. Especially the part where I was trying to strategically hold up my hand to block pictures in the wikipedia article for "human penis" because Newt's the kind of guy who thinks science terms during sexytimes instead of "that visible line on the bottom of the penis" and, uh, sorry fellow patrons except I am not actually sorry in the slightest. I really appreciate everyone sticking with me and hope this beginning to the Era Of Smutty Payoff was worth your while. :D
> 
> In the meantime... OMGGGGG I am so excited that there are HD screencaps everywhere all of a sudden so I can contemplate Important Questions like "How big is Newt Geiszler's mouth really?" with better sourcing.
> 
> I am also SO EXCITED about this story and I think we're heading into a good time of sexyness and science plot payoffs and Shatterdome ribbings and just in general things will accelerate a little. Thank you so much for keeping up with this story, which is like my favorite thing in the history of ever, because it's so fun to write and omg, fun readers are fun, and OMGGGG I cannot even express how much fun I continue to have with the commentariat. I, uh, one of these days I will figure out how to express that and in the meantime here, have some scienctist/gangster sexytimes as a token of my thanks. :P
> 
> Also, yes, I am a GIANT DORK and named this chapter after The World's Best Children's Movie Song, Even Including Poor Unfortunate Souls from Anastasia. :P


	14. Happiness Is A Gold Toothbrush

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Timeline: This takes place the morning after Chapter 13 (so 10 days post V-K Day)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sexytime avoiding readers can proceed with confidence; there's a little nudity of the "Newt has no modesty" variety but nothing's hot and heavy. The only warning would be for possibly sugar-shock-inducing levels of fluff-before-the-storm.

Why is he awake, again? Newt grumbles and tries to wrap the covers around himself a little better because yeah no, not time to get up, not now - it's warm, and he doesn't wanna. There's something heavy on his shoulder and it moves, just enough to jostle him, and there's the culprit. He grumbles a little and there's a chuckle and oh yeah, this is not just a nice bed, it's _Hannibal's _nice bed, and that's worth forcing his eyes open, if only just. "Morning," he says, aiming his head at the red-and-gold blur on his right, and his voice cracks halfway on a yawn.__

__"Go back to sleep, doc," and Hannibal's all rumbly, rumblier than usual with sleep, which makes Newt grin a little. Ok, first order of business: glasses. He pats his face and the surrounding environs because he doesn't remember taking them off, exactly, so they're probably around here someplace..._ _

__A big, warm hand restrains his wrist. "The hell are you doin' down there?"_ _

__"Glasses," he manages, and a yawn catches him halfway through that one, too._ _

__"Don't leave 'em on when you sleep, moron," and there's movement and rustling and a hand holds his head still while another slips the frames on his face. "You're just lucky they aren't all fouled up."_ _

__"Lucky," he repeats and Hannibal makes an exasperated noise but he's kind of pressing his mouth in a trying-not-to-smile way, don't even try to hide it, Newt knows that face in many versions and the Hannibal one's not much different. He kind of stretches. "Mornin'," and he goes to get up but Hannibal gives him a weak little shove._ _

__"You an' your dog breath can stay right down there," and hey now._ _

__"Whose fault is that, you know where my mouth's been," and Newt's trying for lascivious but Hannibal's chuckle indicates that he may have landed in hilarious instead and hey, that'll do._ _

__"Go back to sleep, punk."_ _

__Newt kind of grumbles but one big hand is keeping him down. He could probably get out from under it but that would take more get-up-and-go than he really has right at the moment. Hannibal kind of grins down at him from where he's all propped up against the headboard, a bunch of papers in his lap. "Mmkay," he mutters and lets his eyes slip back closed. He's most of the way asleep when he gets jostled again, cracks one eye. Oh, that's what's up; Hannibal's kind of resting an arm on him and every time he shuffles his papers it rocks Newt just enough. Now that he's a little more awake he can see that Hannibal's pajamas have slipped open a little at the neck, just a couple of buttons worth, enough to reveal a little bit of temptingly un-bandaged collarbone. Ok, he's got this. One, two, three, _spring._ Hannibal wasn't expecting it and Newt's just fast enough to latch a little bite into the notch of his clavicle - yuck, that's definitely all covered in some kind of medicine, here's hoping it's non-toxic - before he's wrestled back down, one big arm against his throat. He tries to struggle, just a little, but the pressure increases and yeah, that's no good, so he goes limp and grins his best shit-eating grin up at Hannibal, whose stern face has slipped into a pissy little smile. Victory. "You're a god damn menace."_ _

__"Kinda," Newt admits, and Hannibal chuckles, leans back a little but shifts to press Newt's shoulders back to the mattress._ _

__"Wasn't kidding. 'S too early to get up," and that's a stern face._ _

__"You're up," he gripes and there's a huff, strong enough that Newt can feel it and hear it both._ _

__"Yeah, well, business doesn't sleep but you better." Newt starts a protesty noise but Hannibal kind of growl at him. "Won't have you losin' a hand in one of my grinders because you're cross-eyed tired, get the picture?"_ _

__Newt wiggles a little just on principle, but it's clear there's no fun to be had in the near future and he's not too keen on waking up anyway unless he has sexy incentive, so he grumbles a little bit and shuffles onto his side. Hands smooth the covers over him and steal his glasses again. "Hey," he mutters._ _

__"They're on the side table, not gettin' broke by your damn rollin' routine," Hannibal grunts and Newt smacks his lips in what is clearly an insolent way even if his genius is going tragically unappreciated. Or maybe not that tragically, he's getting nice hair pets, he takes it all back, and he'll just drift right off, yessiree._ _

__There's a nice, floaty time where he might be asleep or he might be just warm and kind of drowsing from time to time and in any case, this time when his eyes open all the way they aren't all dry and sorry to be letting light in. He kicks the covers down and kind of log rolls over toward the side table - this _bed_ , jeez Louise, it takes four whole rolls before he can even find the edge on Hannibal's side - and pats around for his glasses. Now that he can see, it's clear that the man himself has left the building, or the bedroom, at least. It sucks, but he shakes himself and rolls into a stand and oh, right, pants. He's going to be needing those probably, and the floor's super cold so it's worth hunting up the slippers, one of which he somehow kicked under a... What is that thing, even, not that he's exactly shocked to find another big gold something kicking around in here. A credenza, he's going with credenza, but it sure is gold and has a lot of edges and drawers and probably no good will come of snooping in it even if he's really, really tempted. The underwear - well, hope springs eternal, so he just kind of tucks those into the waistband of his pjs and pushes out the door, strolls into the living room. Hannibal's all holed up at a weird side-table, bent over a computer and - oh gosh, too awesome, he's rocking big gold-rimmed glasses, almost aviators but there's something funny about the shape. His head snaps around to regard Newt, who shoots a thumbs up and when Hannibal just looks confused he reaches up to touch his own glasses. There's a growl and Hannibal whips his specs off, quick as anything, and stuffs them in a cupboard._ _

__"I'm kinda surprised you don't have a monocle, you seem like a monocle kind of guy," he says in a rush, and Hannibal shakes his head in a not-entirely-friendly way. "I'm just sayin', I bet you could get a crazy custom kaiju one," and yeah, that's not a happy look, "not that, you know, you aren't rocking the glasses, or were rocking them, lookin' fly dude," and still with the frowning and maybe that's a thing, Hermann has a thing about his glasses too, so, "not that I'll be telling anybody about them but it's a waste, dude, disco is not dead, ok, and those glasses are the shit."_ _

__Hannibal narrows his eyes but seems ok, honestly, and shakes his head in a mostly-mocking type way. "Not another word about 'em," he grumbles and Newt holds up surrender hands. Hannibal looks him over, kind of gives judge-face to the underwear hanging over his hip._ _

__"I just thought, in case, you know, no sense putting them on to take 'em right off again?" and he tries a smolder on for size but Hannibal laughs at him which, come on._ _

__"Not now, kid." Hannibal taps his laptop pointedly with one hand and waves the other one at Newt, or behind Newt, and who even knows with that, man._ _

__"Um, is that a signal or something because..." and Hannibal shakes his head again._ _

__"It's a signal that there's the bathroom, clean yourself up 'cause you're a god damn mess," but that's a friendly sort of grumble that turns into a chuckle when Newt dashes off a two-fingered salute and wheels around to head toward the bathroom which doesn't disappoint - it's almost as big as the lab he shares with Hermann. For a guy who clearly can't see for shit Hannibal sure likes his mood lighting; it's dark and Newt can't immediately spot the light sources, but they're scattered strategically so everything glints and the overwhelming impression is gold, gold, gold. It takes a little bit of hunting to figure out where the shower is. There's no curtain or cubicle or anything, just a big flat place with knobs on the wall. He turns one, experimentally, and yelps when the water comes shooting straight for him, horizontally from the wall, and good thing he didn't crank the tap up very hard because he just barely missed getting tagged with water and who wants to wear soaked pajamas? In fact, it's probably smarter to strip down and tuck all of his stuff next to the sink before further experimentation. Once that's out of the way, he turns back toward the knobs. There's like six of them, and you know what, he's just gonna go for broke, here. He spins all six as far as they'll go and yeah, bad call, that's really hot, he's just gonna dial it back a little and, yeah, perfect. There's water spouting from four different places on the back wall and two spots overhead, none of it far enough to spatter the mirrors and there are hidden drains down there on the floor catching all the flow. It's the craziest, best shower he's ever had the pleasure of hopping in and so what if maybe that's like half because it's so ridiculous. Now, to track down soap - but that's easier than he would have guessed it would be. Theres a borderline-ordinary-except-gold ledge full of mysterious glass bottles and, hilariously, a red plastic thing of Old Spice body wash. He'll explore the rest of this stuff another day, but he's feeling the Old Spice magic just now and man, the water from the wall is basically a massage of cleanliness and awesome. He takes his time but he's kind of getting pruny and all good things must come to an end, or something like that, so it's off with the taps and there's a big old stash of fluffy towels on a bench just outside of the spray radius. It's like weirdly easy to find things in here, compared to the usual sliding secret doors routine, and that was clearly a jinx because toothpaste? Not so much. He lets his towel drop and throws open the door. "Hannibal, man, where do you hide the toothpaste?" he hollers and wait, oh, Hannibal's on the phone and not too happy to be interrupted if the bird he's flipping Newt's way is any indication, but he can't be too pissed because he's hanging up and hoisting himself out of his chair. Cue a hopeful eyebrow waggle but Hannibal just laughs at him - which, ouch, Newt's bringing the sexy, here. That's better, because at least he slides a big hand across Newt's shoulders on his way into the bathroom, where he slides an easy hand up to the wall and latches into a false edge to reveal a big, brightly-lit medicine cabinet._ _

__"How many damn doctorates and you can't find the medicine cabinet," he grumbles and Newt gasps with the injustice of it all._ _

__"Maybe if they weren't all top secret," he bitches and Hannibal snorts, nudges him with a hip. At least the big guy's feeling helpful enough to hand over a tube of toothpaste and a toothbrush, which is a double-bonus because he was totally prepared to finger brush but he should've known better than to think of roughing it at Hannibal Chau's._ _

__Except he can't help but laugh because, "Seriously, dude, gold toothbrushes? Don't get me wrong, I dig it, waste is glamour..."_ _

__Hannibal's laugh is startled and all the warmer for it so score one for Newt. "You are the living end," he grouses, leaning back and crossing his arms. Well, toothbrushing is not at the top of the list of Sexy Things to Do While Naked but never let it be said that Newt Geiszler backs down from a challenge._ _

__Hannibal snorts and fluffs a hand through Newt's damp hair. "Put your damn clothes on, boy, you're on the clock," he orders and Newt pouts at him but shakes out his pjs and slips the shirt back on. Hannibal looks at his boxer-briefs pointedly and Newt grumbles but slips those on, too, and hikes up his pants, gets his slippers-and-pants-cuffs situation all situated._ _

__"Not to be that guy, but, uh, can somebody take me to my suitcase because pjs are not exactly lab attire and I'll level with you, dude, I kind of sleepwalked here and am not that sure how to get where I'm going, so..."_ _

__"Lucky for you I'm headin' your way," Hannibal says, and gosh, Newt could get used to that easy smile even if he's tragically being denied morning sex._ _

__It's hard to be too put out about it when Hannibal's being so nice, taking his elbow like an old-school gentleman and steering him out of the living room - mark his words, he's going to get a better look at the place - and into the hall. "I have literally no idea what time it is," Newt announces._ _

__Hannibal snorts at him. "Little past nine, lazybones."_ _

__Newt gently nudges Hannibal's ribs with his elbow. "Can't have it both ways, Mr. Go-Back-To-Sleep-Newt."_ _

__"Can have it any damn way I want," Hannibal growls._ _

__"Can't argue with that," and this is _definitely_ the time for an eyebrow waggle._ _

__Hannibal snorts and cuffs him, but gently. "You're awful chipper for a fella strolling through my hallways in his pajamas."_ _

__Newt shrugs, because, "Whatever, dude, life's too short to walk-of-shame, and plus I figure half your guys are now way less likely to stab me on a whim and the other half just figure I'm eccentric or getting the team color spirit or something." Score - Hannibal's clearly choking back a laugh because cool guys don't crack up in front of their gangster minions, he can dig it. And then it's all quiet so he nudges Hannibal a little. "So what's up today? I mean, maybe the answer to that's just 'whatever Li tells me to do,' which is cool, but if you had anything special in mind for me to work on..."_ _

__Hannibal bumps him with a hip. "Way I hear it, my new consultant fixed it up so that most of the perishables are already bein' processed double-time or better."_ _

__A pause, why is there a pause. "And?"_ _

__"And maybe there's time for a special project or two, being as how that's the case."_ _

__Newt doesn't even try to muffle his victory-is-mine style "Yes!" and Hannibal allows himself a little chuckle._ _

__Newt's basically dying here, but Hannibal keeps pinching him when he goes to open his mouth so he has to content himself with seditious muttering and at least it's not long 'til they reach what he's pretty sure is the door to his and JJ's little guestroom. Sure enough, Hannibal shoulders the door open, and that's a surprise - JJ, he was expecting, but Li's in there, too, the too of them all bent over some papers - diagrams, it looks like - on one of the beds, or they were bent over - both of them kind of startle up at the open door. It's not even fair - Li raises an eyebrow at him and JJ's kind of smirk-leering and so Newt throws a thumbs-up. "Hey, guys, what's up?"_ _

__"What's this all about?" Hannibal interrupts._ _

__JJ stretches, smiles an easy smile. "I'm sick of sitting around so Li here's teaching me a thing or two about how the processing works so I can lend a hand."_ _

__Hannibal turns an expectant look on Li, who smiles faintly. "Some of the machines are simple enough to oversee."_ _

__"Can't do the formulating - yet - but I can fetch and carry with the best of them," JJ busts in, all cheerful._ _

__Hannibal snorts. "Not gonna turn away volunteers," and he emphasizes that last word._ _

__JJ nods -message received - and Hannibal drops Newt's elbow. "All right, then, get to it," he grumbles._ _

__It seems like he's gonna leave, just like that, which, boo, so Newt snags his sleeve and kind of hops up to land a little peck on Hannibal's jawline. "Sure thing, sugarpuss."_ _

__"Sugarpuss," Hannibal growls and bats Newt off him, but not too hard._ _

__Newt snickers. "Ok, fine, whatever, it just popped out of my mouth..."_ _

__"None of that," Hannibal grumbles, but gives Newt's arm a little pat before making his exit._ _

__Li's smiling down at her lap, and JJ snorts at him. "Sugarpuss? Really?"_ _

__"Whatever, dude," and his bag's just at the end of his bed so he'll just stroll on over there..._ _

__But of course it's not over because JJ's looming over his shoulder. "Somebody's cheerful this morning."_ _

__Newt's man enough to admit that he giggles a little bit. "Like you're super surprised."_ _

__JJ nods, and he does his best not to squirm under her narrow-eyed once-over and you know what, screw this, he's just gonna fish out his jeans and another t-shirt and if he's all stealthy he can kind of wrap them around his undies because it's sort of weird to have everybody looking at them, so sue him, he has got _some_ modesty._ _

__"It is... nice to see Mr. Chau looking so happy," and thank you, Li, for breaking the awkward-ass silence._ _

__"Whatever, dude, I bet that's all you and your super-fast overnight kaiju processing powers," and Newt grins back at her._ _

__"Bet that's not why," JJ teases, singsong, and Newt kicks her halfheartedly on his way to the bathroom but he should have known better because she's more than fast enough to retaliate with a tickle-pinch to his side._ _

__"Better wash your hands, you don't know where I've been," he crows and runs into the bathroom and throws the lock just fast enough to prevent her from chasing him in._ _

__He's still kind of chuckling as he pulls his real clothes on and turns on the tap to get a little water into his hair so it'll take pomade. It doesn't take too long, but someone's pounding on the door anyway._ _

__Surprise, surprise, it's JJ, who throws him a gentle elbow to the gut as he squeezes by her to get out. He's cracking up and she pointedly turns on the tap and reaches for the soap. "I hate you," she says, but all cheerfully._ _

__"Get with it, dude, Opposite Day was yesterday," and she's shaking her head and laughing, too._ _

__"Are you _actually_ twelve?" and JJ's smiling over her shoulder at him while she scrubs up._ _

__"If I am, somebody's getting brought up on charges," and JJ has a nice laugh._ _

__Li half-smiles at him. "I have to get back to work."_ _

__"Right there with ya, just let me grab my Docs," and they're lined up neatly at the end of the bed, stuffed with clean socks that definitely don't belong to him but he's not looking this gift horse in the mouth._ _

__He's lacing up and Li's fussing with her papers. She beats him to the finish line, but only just, and that's more like a three-quarter smile when he pops to his feet and kind of has to correct with a little hop. Score. "We should go. I think you will be in for a happy surprise."_ _

__Newt holds his hand up for a high-five and Li shakes her head but reluctantly gives his hand a little slap. Whatever, he'll take it, even if it's a pretty weaksauce five. "That's what I like to hear!"_ _

__And then there's JJ, out of nowhere, chuckling right next to him. "Let's go, you guys," he enthuses, and JJ bumps him with her shoulder as they all troop out. Aw, yes. This day, man. Not even lunchtime, and everything's comin' up Geiszler._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guyssssss. There was supposed to be *science* this chapter, but the Morning After was so long and all the characters were cheery and chatty and so there is more plot a-comin' in the next bit. I hope you enjoyed the fluff, because boy howdy did I like writing it! Even if poor dear Newt is deliberately failing to notice (slash is just sort of oblivious and inclined to bounciness) that Hannibal's verrrry nice indeed when Newt's providing helpful boosts to his business but hasn't signed up on a permanent basis, and is all bouncy and pliable and likely to agree to rash contract propositions when his awesome new Gangster Teddy is so good to him, who wouldn't want to stick around? And JJ and Li. *dreamy sigh* I just love them and they can't help but be pretty damn amused. I mean, who could? :P
> 
> Womp womp. That's enough raining on the happy parade in my author's note. :D (And it's not that dire - Hannibal's clearly invested, too, in spite of himself even if he's a manipulative shit on top of it all.) Wait, no, I'm not quite done - I would expect to see the next bit of this on Monday (although I will answer comments between here and there, ofc), which is a little long, I know, but I'm going to NY ComicCon Friday through Sunday and I expect I'll be busy as anything! Tomorrow I'm scrambling to be an Employed American who is also finishing a Newt cosplay and a Tamsin Sevier one (I'm redheaded and a lady, so it was a natural fit!) I've never done the con thing or the cosplay thing and so they're, um, a little on the homemade looking side, but I expect they'll help me flush out people who want to talk about Pacific Rim during the highest possible percentage of their waking life, so that'll do. :D
> 
> ALSO. OH GOSH. So, the Fanfic Phantom (which is a handle that just makes Andrew Lloyd Weber play in my head every time, so, uh, thanks for that?) wrote the most charming little Newt-and-Hermann-best-friends-forever scenario as a little tag to this fic! You can find it here: http://shrib.com/kaijufic It's so cute and well-worth a read for cuddly BFF feels! And... UM SO LISTEN I AM SO EXCITED TO THINK ANYONE IS INSPIRED TO CREATE A THING BECAUSE OF THIS STORY. I mean, I could write sonnets to the fun things that happen in the comments and I grin at the beautiful art Feriowind busted out with from my desktop background on the daily (and entertain fellow subway-goers, I'm sure). ANYWAY. I think this is coming out wrong and I hope it doesn't seem braggy, because what I mean to say is you guyyyys, you are the best readership of all time and I am just treasuring this stuff and your comments and holy crap, the kudo count, and thanks so much! For realsies, bless you all because I'm creeping up on two months from the start date of this story and my enthusiasm grows ever brighter because this fandom is just the funnest of all time.
> 
> ETA: PS, for some reason AO3 is having none of my italic html this chapter, but everything reads decently without it until such time as I can figure out why it's doing that. *headscratch*
> 
> PPS: The weird horizontal-shooting-water shower was inspired by one I encountered in the wild, by which I mean one of my college buddies' parents' house. The contraptions are too ridiculous for words and so of course are finding their way into my favorite hobby, Fantasy Hannibal Chau Interior Decorator.


	15. You Win Some, You Lose Some

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This takes place the afternoon of the same day as Chapter 14 (so 10 days post V-K day)

Newt's not glad, exactly, that Hermann isn't in the lab, but maybe he is a little bit because he can spare the poor guy the banging, clanging and all around surprisingly hellacious noise and mess that is apparently part and parcel of packing up the neural measurement apparatus. Of course that was sort of a pipe dream - Hermann basically lives here, and it was a weird stroke of luck that he wasn't in the lab in the first place, and ok, fine, maybe he feels a tiny bit sneaky because Hermann is totally going to freak when he finds out about Newt's latest, greatest scientific plan, but this time nobody but nobody's at risk of major bodily harm and so maybe Newt just kinda wants to... smooth it over? Except not telling Hermann things feels weird, and maybe that's some kind of sign or something that he ought to, like, think about his choices, and yep, speak of the devil, Hermann's coming in, sure enough. But just maybe Newt's luck is sort of holding because Hermann's making distracted-face at the papers in his hands. It's enough cover to hastily get up, anyway, and he's not such a jerk that he won't make a little noise to avoid scaring Hermann half to death. Whatever it is has him wrapped up enough that rustling around a little bit's not enough to snap him out of it, so Newt says, "Hey, dude," and well, that's just - startling Hermann hard enough to drop his papers was not the plan, was in fact the opposite of the plan, and to demonstrate this truth Newt drops down to collect them despite Hermann's thunderous glare. "Look, hey, this is not a 'Hermann can't do this himself' thing, this is an 'I didn't mean to scare Hermann into dropping his papers' thing, so maybe can we skip past the yelling part and head straight for the 'hey buddy, what's got you so worried you didn't notice I was here at all' part?"

Hermann grits his teeth but accepts the papers Newt offers without comment, which is as good as 'apology accepted.' He takes a moment to put the papers back in order, and to compose himself, probably, before sighing heavily. "What I hold here is an offer for joint tenure at MIT, on reasonable terms, although I'd hardly call their offer generous. The California Institute of Technology has also made its interest known, although the salary offer is abysmal and the facilities quite primitive, which is understandable considering the degree to which California has been affected by kaiju but is still not... optimal."

Newt tries a tentative smile on for size. "That's good, right? I mean..."

Hermann sniffs. "The European institutions have indicated that they are reluctant to extend any type of offer without the official sanction of the UN."

Newt whistles. "And I'm guessing that's not..."

"I would prefer that my employment not be at my father's sufferance," and Hermann's voice is all danger-calm. Newt holds up surrender hands and kind of rocks one backward step toward the couch. Hermann doesn't move or speak, so Newt takes a few cautious steps back and suddenly Hermann's in motion, brushing past Newt and lowering himself onto the couch with a sigh.

Newt slots himself in next to the guy, but not too close, and the silence is heavy in a bad way, so, "I mean, that's enough to bargain on, right? I mean, credible threats of leaving, not actually leaving, that was the goal, right, so..."

Hermann's mouth does a funny twist. "I am beginning to doubt the feasibility of staying on."

"Whoa, whoa," and he's kind of frantic, ok, calming down and slowing down, yes, he's got this. "I mean, that's a little hasty, right? It's only been like a day and..."

Hermann shifts, stiff and staring at the wall as though it's done something to him personally. "Responses from the Defense Committee have not been encouraging..."

Which, what? "Wait, you talked to those guys? I thought we had a week?"

"I have not spoken to them, no," and Hermann's got guilt-face. What's that all about? His mouth curls downward and he glances to the side, jaw tight. "I may have, er, overheard some things from Mr. Choi..."

"You've been _spying_ ," and this is serious, ok, he gets that, he does, but that's awesome anyway and shut up, he's delighted. Hermann? Yeah, not so much. His lips are pressed so tight they might seal together permanently. "I mean, it's only kind of spying if it's about you, right? I think that's in the rules," and maybe he's babbling, but he's done nothing to deserve a full-on Hermann glare.

"What rules might those be?" Hermann sniffs.

"The, uh, moral rules? The good guy code? I dunno, dude, I think you kind of get carte blanche when you save the world and then your evil dad tries to screw you out of a job right afterwards, just saying," and god, why can't he shut up, Hermann's curling in on himself in a horrible way and yeah, shutting up now.

He's quiet, quiet like a churchmouse, at least until Hermann's cane softly presses into the side of his foot and, oh, yeah, he's bouncing his leg up and down in the way that Hermann hates a whole lot. Newt takes a deep breath, focuses on sitting still, still and calm, calm for Hermann, one breath in, one breath out. It works, mostly, and it's worth it because Hermann's gradually relaxing a little beside him, at least until both of their phones go off at once, knocking into each other because they're in the pockets where he and Hermann are pressed up against each other and he doesn't mean to giggle but he does because that's ridiculous somehow, and god, his laugh is awfully loud in the lab. Hermann grumps at him and bats at the hand he's using to feel around for his phone. Newt's a gentleman and so he lets Hermann fish his phone out first and does his best not to poke Hermann too much when he grabs his own. It's a message from Tendo, flagged urgent. _Guys, turn on Channel 9. Now._

Newt hauls himself up and Hermann seizes his wrist. "My monitor, Newton, I dread to think of the state of your desk."

"You got it!" And that's easy enough. Hermann hates when Newt touches his computer and he may be, uh, slightly greasy, if he's gonna be honest, so he just hovers ineffectually until Hermann gets himself settled and fires up the ancient browser that'll actually work with streaming video. It's Herc, looking resolute in front of the big PPDC symbol and that wall of flags Pentecost always busted out for press conferences and official visitors. "...can all agree that it's vital that we continue to monitor the Breach and consider preparedness measures in the event that any activity's observed or suspected. Accordingly, as Marshall I've been formally requesting funds for equipment and personnel to assist us. You there, yeah, you in the blue and green - looks like you've got a question that just won't wait."

The camera stays trained on Herc, but the audience must be miked, because it's easy to hear, "Martin Cross, CNN. This presentation's a little short on specifics. What kind of money are we talking?"

Herc's smile is visibly strained, but his voice stays even. "Enough to pay the staff, to start with. I'd say a good starting point might be standard payscale from the governments we've borrowed 'em from."

"That's not already in place?" interjects some started voice from off-camera.

"Been lean times in the Jaeger program for a while now. Lots of folks on half-pay and many on nothing at all. Now that we've got a little time to think it through, I'm sure we can agree that's not right."

There's a general clamor then, and Herc waves a quelling hand. "Let's keep it civil, folks. You there - the lady in the white." Noise, general laughter - man that's infuriating. "Lady in white in the front row, then, sorry about that."

"Stella MacNair, New York Times. Do you anticipate maintaining present staffing levels, or will you reduce Jaeger personnel?"

Herc shifts a little bit. "That's a good question. The way I see it, Jaeger crews are well-equipped to assist with cleanup and rebuilding. They're trained for it and have been doing kill-site triage for years. I'm also suggesting an expansion's in order. Believe it or not, my science division's down to two..." Another clamor, which damn straight, and Herc waves an impatient hand. "I'm thinking it would make sense to hire on a few more folks who have expertise to deal with areas affected by Kaiju Blue, radiation, or both. That's a project that can and should be transnational, if you ask me."

"This is a little irregular, Marshall," somebody shouts, and Jesus, can't they move the camera. "Why are we hearing this from you and not the UN?"

Herc's smile is grim and, like, the opposite of convincing. "Thought it made sense to let a little sunshine in to the Jaeger program's operations, that's all. Believe me, the UN's hearing from me..."

And then the stupid alarm's going off, loud enough to drown out the shitty speakers on Hermann's computer. "Damn," Newt mutters and shuffles over to the chalk tray to shut the thing off. Hermann gives him a narrow-eyed look and Newt grins at him. "Dude, I knew where you put that thing on day one."

Hermann shakes his head and mutters something that Newt's ninety percent sure is a judgment on his character, casts a longing look at his monitor before shutting it down.

"What timing, huh?" Newt grouses. "Oh well, I'll bet money that somebody's taping this, because, go Herc, right?"

"It's about damn time," Hermann grumps and Newt straightens because, wow, swearing, and in English, even, that's not a great sign. He's too slow coming up with a distraction, though, because Hermann levels a glare at the admittedly messy pile of wires and components on the neural measurement apparatus cart, and gives it an irritated little jab with his cane. "And what is this all about?" That's - the bleak tone and that level of glare are really not called for, ok?

Which starts him babbling he knows it's babbling, but hey, this is exciting stuff and the silence is not so exciting, and so, "It's just... oh man, Hermann, it's been such a great day, you don't even know - we confirmed that Otachibi's regenerated stomach is registering neural activity, or something mostly like neural activity, anyway, never quite seen anything like it before, but Li's neural setup's pretty primitive so I'm bringing over some equipment and..."

_"For the love of God, think of the risk to your mind, you idiot child,"_ and Hermann's full-on yelling and wow, that escalated quickly.

He jumps in when Hermann gulps in a breath. "Measurement only, Hermann, I swear - nobody's hooking into it, nobody's doing anything dumb - I'm not even bringing helmets, I just need some readings..."

Hermann's glaring at the ground, shaking his head almost violently and this is not good, this is so very double-plus-un-good. "I know you, _Dr. Geiszler,_ and you've proved rather recently that you don't require a standard Pons to run yourself into..."

"HERMANN," Newt shouts, and puts his hand over Hermann's cane hand. It's a risky move, the 'I'm serious, I'm going to say something serious and pay attention' gesture and he's damn scared to bust it out so early but this is getting out of hand and if he can defuse it now because for once he's really not planning something stupid. "Hermann. I have a sample, I have time, and I need measurements. I have no intention of strapping myself or anyone else to anything when I'm not even dealing with brain tissue and when I've got all the time in the world to run real, principled experiments, ok?" Hermann's shaking his head, mouth tight. "I promise, ok? I... OK, that's not working, I can see that, you don't even believe me, which, ouch, but ok, let me try this way, dude. Listen, we both know that the Kaiju Drift wasn't a... comfortable experience and that was with a fresh, intact brain to work with. I promise, dude, I swear to you I'm not going to try to Drift with this thing, or anything even remotely like that, ok, dude, Hermann, I swear." Better, at least - Hermann's looking at him, narrowed eyes searching his face for any hint of deception. Newt forces himself to stay still and hold eye contact for one beat, two, and yikes, no. "Listen, Hermann, I promise, ok? Pinky swear," and he means it, he does, pinky at the ready and everything.

Hermann grump-growls. "That's juvenile."

Newt's laugh is pretty nervous, but what are you gonna do. "That's how you know I mean it."

"If only that were an exaggeration," Hermann grumbles, but extends his skinny-ass pinky nevertheless.

Newt curls his finger around Hermann's and nods solemnly. He waits until he's under the full blast of Hermann's eye contact and gives their joined hands a little shake. "Ok?"

Hermann just presses his lips together and begins to make his way toward the door. That's it. Enough, already, ok, Newt's sick of it, this seething and yelling and hiding from Hermann and he's just gonna have to nut up. He trots to catch up with Hermann, knocking gently against his side. "So, uh, I guess this means you're still not cool with me going over to Hannibal's, huh." Hermann's harsh breath is enough of an answer, thanks, not gonna give him time to get going again. "So, I don't want... I mean, we don't have to do this every day. I think it would make you feel better..." And that's a pre-yelling sort of inhale, a big long one, and yeah, no, wrong tack. "Wait, that came out wrong. It would make _me_ feel better if maybe... So maybe you could come over and see the workshop and talk to Hannibal..." And Hermann's speeding up, running away almost, and that's no good, no good at all. "Like, ok, no, just hear me out, dude. Can I ask him, maybe, and we can all talk about the offer he's gonna put on the table, that's information we need, you said there's weirdness with the defense committee and Herc's pulling stunts already and maybe it's leverage we need, ok? And maybe you can look at what I'm working on - the labs are huge, Hermann, I've got techs and real sample tanks and it's legit, ok, and I'm working with Li, remember, you kind of liked her, don't even lie, it wasn't so bad when she was here with us, and, yikes, I'm totally rambling but maybe we could give it a try, is all I'm saying?"

Hermann sighs, heavy and mean, but he's moving at his usual speed and he's not yelling again, so that's a start. "When would this... meeting occur?" he bites out, and it sounds bitchy but that's not a no.

"I dunno, dude, when's good for you and I can see if he can make a time work?"

Hermann steals a sideways glance at him. "You have not already set a time?"

"Nah, dude," and Newt makes himself smile even if he's pretty sure it looks all wrong, too nervous, but it's the sentiment, right? "I... haven't exactly mentioned the idea to him? I wanted to run it by you before I..."

"Thank you for that," and Hermann sounds stiff but a little surprised and ouch. He's not _that_ much of a jerk. Newt makes himself stay quiet because one look at Hermann confirms that he's thinking about it, at least. "I would... consider such a meeting. I'd like to bring security." Newt holds back his victory fist-pump because, yeah, that wouldn't go over well. "And my attorney."

"You got it, man," and that's a look so he's just gonna go ahead and amend that to, " _Doctor_ man, Hermann, jeez."

And that sigh is standard Hermann irritation level, so maybe they're in the clear? At least they're at the scanning room, anyway, and Hermann hates to go defcon in front of people, so it's a reprieve at the very least.

Raleigh is saying something in slow Japanese when they open the door, too low to catch, and whatever it is has Mako giggling. He smiles at him and Hermann. "How about that press conference, huh?"

"I am a bit surprised," Hermann volunteers, surprisingly civilly, and waves his hands impatiently enough that everybody scatters to their stools. He's gentle with the application of Newt's gel and Newt can't help it, he smiles and gives a thumbs-up that earns him a head-shake that's just this side of indulgent.

"Marshall Hansen has never been a politician," and Mako sounds pretty worried, actually.

"Perhaps he merely saw an opportunity, Ranger Mori," and Hermann's almost soothing when he wants to be, and that definitely earned him a grateful little smile from Mako.

Newt hates this setup - Hermann always straps him in first, and he can't turn his head to see what's going on without dislodging sensors. Hermann probably does it on purpose just to spite him.

He can hear scuffling, and then, "You are abominably large."

And that's a Raleigh chuckle. "I can saw the legs on this stool down..."

"I'll thank you to leave my equipment intact, Ranger," and Hermann's tone's a fond sort of prim.

The door bangs open - screw this, he really hates being stuck facing forward. "Hey, Tendo!"

"Sorry, it's me," and he can't place the voice. "Tendo's hung up at the press conference. Don't give me that look, Dr. Gottlieb, I know how to run a setup and you trained me for this yourself."

Then there's movement, and Hermann's settling in on the stool next to Newt. "I meant no disrespect, Ms. Tang. I just prefer to eliminate variation where possible."

"Well, it is what it is," and Ms. Tang - Jenny Tang, there she is, stepping up to the control console, she's good people - sounds a little pissed. "Shoot, it's almost time. Counting down from five. Five, four, three, two, one," and Newt tries to blank his thoughts while he counts out loud to thirty. This is getting ridiculous - the more sessions they have, the more he feels a weird... pull, or tug, or something, something funny in his brain, though, and yeah, that's not reassuring. It's not something he can put his finger on. Ghost drift, maybe, but that was associated with pilots who spent significant time in their Jaegers and, oh, geez, how had this not occurred to him before...

"Newton!" and that's Hermann, hissing right in his ear. "Newton, stop now. The mark is thirty and you've reached forty-five."

"Sorry, dude," and he shakes his head. This feels like a whisper sort of situation, so... "I got a little distracted because... Hey, listen, so do you think there's any chance of we're ghost Drifting with Otachibi, because..." And god, that's pretty terrifying, actually, as well as pretty goddamn cool, because Hermann knocking around in his head is one thing, but what if the kaiju hive mind has a presence in there, what can they see, what can _he_ see, this is a potential goldmine - and, ok, fine, also a potential trainwreck, because how would he even know what that's doing to him, neurologically speaking...

Hermann's hiss snaps him out of it, just a little. "That creature is long dead," and Hermann's looking furtively at the control station.

So, quiet. "I mean, kinda?" Newt whispers back. "I mean, we've got a live stomach giving off neural readings, just saying..."

Hermann presses his mouth tight. "There have been some... abnormal readings," he admits, pained, and Newt nudges his foot, which is long about when Jenny Tang calls, "Dr. Gottlieb, if you can check to make sure you've got what you need, because I've got to go."

"Keep quiet," Hermann hisses and stomps over to the control panel.

Raleigh and Mako are watching them with interest so Newt summons up a watery smile and wriggles out of his sensor array to make his way over to them. "Hey, guys."

Mako's making question-face, so Newt shakes his head and looks at Jenny Tang significantly. "In a minute. I think it's, uh, circle of trust type stuff."

"Ok," Raleigh agrees, easy, but Mako looks worried.

"No biggie or anything, just a thought we had about how to measure ghost Drift. I think Hermann wants to play it close to the vest," and he feels kinda bad about that, but it's true, sort of, if incomplete. Anyway, Mako seems to feel better, so that's something.

Now Raleigh's giving him a significant look. "What?" he asks, and Mako smirk-giggles.

"So..." and Raleigh nods encouragingly.

"So, what?" he asks, and Mako giggles again and Raleigh gives him a significant look.

"Oh!" and that's, ok, yeah, he's blushing, and Raleigh's cracking up, Mako's covering her mouth with a hand. "Yeah, so, um, I'm having a good time at Hannibal's?" he tries.

Raleigh outright grins at him. "How good?"

"Really, really good," he admits, and his stupid blushing face and his stupid dry throat and his stupid mouth, grinning without his permission.

Raleigh knocks his shoulder into Newt's. "Come _on,_ " and that's hilarious, even if he's not sure what's, like, cool to talk about in this kind of situation?

Oh, hey, shower, which is both crazy and pretty neutral, at least in that way where he can't imagine Hannibal being pissed if it got back to him, so. "You should see the guy's house, dude, it's crazy, gold, gold, and more gold. The shower..." And Mako looks scandalized, but she snickers, so Newt gives her an exaggerated wink. "Don't worry, this is worksafe. Uh, mostly. Anyway, there's about a million showerheads, all gold, some overhead and some of them shoot out from the wall, like, horizontally," and he demonstrates with his hands. Raleigh looks pretty gleeful which Newt would not have called, to be honest.

A sharp elbow jabs into his side. "The good lord save me from knowledge of Hannibal Chau's showering facilities," Hermann grumps and that's it. Newt cracks up and he's pretty sure Raleigh and Mako are right with him.

"Bye," Jenny Tang calls distractedly, hustling right past them on her way out.

"Bye, Jenny," Newt tries but he doesn't acknowledge it, just bangs out the door. Geez.

"Busy day, I guess," Raleigh offers and Newt gins up a smile for him. He turns an expectant look on Hermann. "So, ghost Drift?"

Hermann squares his stance, catching Newt with an elbow while he does it. Screw that. There's quiet, and there's keeping bros out of the loop, and one of them's not cool, ok? "I cannot rule out the possibility," Hermann admits, and, oof, that's a grudging tone. "Dr. Geiszler," and Newt shoots him a look, but it seems like a professional-situations title and not an I'm-pissed-at-you title, so, "has suggested a new way to attempt to measure the phenomenon. I'm yet sure it's viable. I assure you you'll be the first to know any insights I gain from the data."

"Why the secrecy?" and Mako looks pretty pained.

"With present levels of uncertainty in our... situation," and Hermann looks miserably uncomfortable, but Raleigh gives him a little nod and Newt shifts his weight so his hip's just brushing Hermann's, "I think it best to refrain from encouraging attention that may not be warranted."

Mako still looks thrown but Raleigh's nodding. "I'm not playing guinea pig for just anyone." Hermann looks startled and Raleigh half-reaches for him but aborts the movement. "I'll do it for you, doc, long as you need me."

"Thank you," and gosh it's weird to hear Hermann's fond voice on someone else, someone that hasn't even been here all that long to boot. It's good, totally good, that the guy's making friends but there's an awful, ugly little part of Newt that doesn't like it, ok, not that he's saying anything, and hey, ok, maybe that's a sign that he'd better spend a little more quality time with his best bro or something. Something like that. Yeah.

Especially when Hermann's all fond at Raleigh and giving Newt a pained look, when was the last time they had a conversation that wasn't at least fifty percent fighting of the nasty variety, and yeah, not great.

Mako's giving Raleigh a significant look, and they nod goodbyes and slip out the door. Hermann sort of stares after them and gives himself a little shake. "So."

"So, uh, I'll go finish packing my stuff up. It'll... I mean I'll probably make a little noise, and I know you hate that, so if you have stuff to finish up here..." and he's talking too fast and nothing feels right all of a sudden.

Hermann half-turns from him. "I'll expect to hear from you."

"Yeah, totally," Newt agrees, and his throat feels too dry to swallow. "I'll call..."

"Text, please, and include as much detail as possible. I'd like a written record, in the event that..." and Hermann trails off, gloomy, still staring at the wall, all twisted away from Newt.

"Ok," he says, and Hermann doesn't react. He swallows again, too hard and too dry. "Are we... I want us to be all right."

"We are," and forgive Newt for being unconvinced but Hermann doesn't even turn to look at him, so. "We will be," he amends, and that's not great.

"Ok," and he hates it, that whiny note that sneaks into his voice sometimes without his permission.

He turns to go, but Hermann reaches out, snags Newt's hand. "Newton," he says, voice serious even if he's still facing away. "We are, as you say, all right."

"Ok," he repeats, a little more normally, and Hermann release him with a little pat and makes his way over to the control console, still stubbornly facing away from Newt. So, yeah, that's not great. That's not great, but it could be worse and you win some, you lose some, ain't that what they say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yikes! A tonal shift from last chapter, I know! I wasn't sure whether to warn for that. If it helps, I will share that Newt is prone to taking more responsibility for Hermann's emotional state than can fairly be attributed to him. I'm happy to discuss that a little more with anyone who's interested!
> 
> ANYWAY. First of all, I want to heartily reccomend that everyone runs, does not walk, to check out Starfoozle's gorgeous and adorable art! It features one Dr. Newt kitted out in his red shirt with frog clasps, fooling around with an Otachibi stomach sample, and rocking a red streak in his hair. It's *incredible* and it's here: http://starfoozle.tumblr.com/post/63628929426/a-doodle-entirely-inspired-by
> 
> ALSO! I am so sorry. I kind of wrecked myself without checking myself on this one, because the first draft was far too heavy on Newt and Li measuring sample activity, and so I had to scrap and re-start and I hope (and firmly believe) that this is a more interesting read! So I know I took forever but I think it was worth the while! I sure hope you're enjoying and thanks so much for reading!!!


	16. Squirrely, Scotchy, Sciencey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place the evening of the same day as Chapters 14 and 15 (so 10 days post V-K Day)

So maybe he's having kind of a little bit of a day, but in a cool way. Well, except for the amazing amount of waste-time involved in getting his neural measurement apparatus hooked up to a computer in a Farraday cage because Li's freaking out today, but whatever, they got through it. And ok, it's also a serious pain in the ass to get the probes to stay fixed in Otachibi Stomach: Mach 2 because the sensor-tubes keep sort of tugging them out of place, and he gets all interested by their motion patterns and the probes get sucked in while he's distracted and then there's the fun-but-nervewracking process of trying to fish them back out with a big plastic hook that Li produced from somewhere - which is also pretty cool, the sensor-tubes sucked on the hook at first but seem not to care about it one way or the other now - and all in all this has been way more of a thing than he was expecting in the funnest possible way. He's pretty proud of their solution; someone ran out to but a bunch of cheap plastic brooms and they lopped off the sweepy parts, torch-fused the shafts into a hilarious half-assed umbrella-spoke-type-thing, and hung it from the ceiling above the stomach-tank. And now he's just about done with step two - drape the wires anchoring the probes over the umbrella-spokes, and then fix them to the rivets on the sides of the tank for extra security with a bunch of plastic zip-ties that were apparently just lying around for reasons he refuses to consider closely. One last zip-tie and, "Ok, you ready, Li?" And she gives a thumbs-up from her spot behind the control-station. "OK, JJ, flip that big white switch, the one we talked about..." And JJ gives him a look - oh, right, he's still sort of touching the probe, maybe not best practices when it's about to go live but honestly they're really well-grounded, so whatever. Anyway, he drops the probe support and JJ makes a get-down-from-there gesture. "Come on!" he hollers but she just gestures again. "Fine, have it your own way, you tool of the man," he mutters and maybe he was just quiet enough that JJ can't hear him but whatever, she could - and maybe would? Probably not? He hopes not - kick his ass, so he begrudgingly climbs two steps down the stepladder and then JJ's laughing at him but at least she's flipping the switch.

And boom. It's really beautiful up-close, the way the sensor-tubes surge to the probes, even more active now that there's current feeding to them. "Guys, I'm not crazy, the glow is stronger now, right?" he cries and there's some mumbling and god dammit he's going to have to go over there, isn't he, which is not so terrible, actually, then he can get his eyes on the readings but there's nothing on earth or otherwise that could make him take his eyes off his brand new baby, not right now.

"These readings are very strong," and Li sounds nervous, what's up with that - this is only _the coolest_ and totally consistent with his hypothesis to boot.

She's right, actually - and oops, sorry Li, he did not mean to hip-check her out of the way but he needed to see and she doesn't look like she really minds, probably? The readings are strong, stronger then they had been this morning and in a way that's not consistent with just the addition of more sensitive probes. "Dude, I think they're adapting," he says and Li kind of nods. "It really sucks that all of the probes we've got are metal - wait, all the probes we have _now_ are metal, give me a couple of days and I can totally make us a set of plastic probes so we can get a proper baseline..."

"I am not sure that is a good idea," and come on, Li, seriously? She's frowning, though, and trying to catch his eye. "The stomach is adapting to metal probes. What is to say that it will not adapt to plastic ones?"

"Yeah, and?" Because actually, that would be seriously awesome. "I mean, think about it - if that happened, we'd have really good evidence that she can adapt to record information beyond the basic parameters of Jaeger-and-human material that she was made to collect, which would be pretty cool..."

"You are not considering where that information may be transmitted," and Li looks pretty grim.

"Yeah, no, I mean, first of all we have no evidence that it's transmitting anywhere at all..." he starts and Li puts a warning hand on his wrist.

"We have no evidence that it is not, either. How many ways can I say it? Listen to me. This is something we should approach carefully, keeping defense considerations in mind."

Newt suppresses a little scream because, seriously? Seriously? Li's supposed to be Team Science. What is this bullshit. "In case you didn't notice, we closed the Breach. Defense considerations are, we won."

Li presses her mouth together, hard, shakes her head. "Even your colleagues are not certain that we won a permanent victory. I will not allow..."

"Whoa, allowing, what, what is this talk of allowing," and maybe he's yelling a tiny bit but Li gives him a narrow-eyed look and presses something on her wristwatch. It's only a couple of seconds before the door swings open and two burly security guys pour through it.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," and Newt makes surrender hands but Li just glares at him steady. "Ok, I get it, you're serious, no plastics. So, polymers? Maybe some glass? How about human tissue, I can get on replicating some of that..."

"The hazards are the same as they are for plastics," and Li's tone brooks no argument. The security guys are behind her now, and she says something to then in Cantonese. They stop moving, at least, but they're right behind her, crossing their arms all menacingly and he gets it, ok? Geez. "I will give this matter some thought and we will discuss how to approach it in a principled way."

"Got it, geez," Newt grumbles, and there's more Cantonese and the guards start trailing out. "But I'm just saying..." and Li snaps her fingers, which, creepy, the guards stop in their tracks for that, "I'm just saying, while you consider, ok, no need to like, have your creepy muscle guys rough me up, geez, but just consider the risk factor on human tissue, ok, because how much more can they even learn, Hannibal was in there for a long time..."

"My ears are burnin'," and the guards fall back because hey, there's Hannibal, the man himself. "What's this about?"

And good, that's good, his tone's all calm, so. "Li won't let me stick, like, anything in the stomach," he whines and JJ cracks up, shoves her wrist into her mouth to muffle it when Li turns to glare and yeah, ok, that came out wrong. Like he can help grinning at her.

Hannibal snorts, turns to Li. God, he is really, really going to learn Cantonese. They have tapes, right? He can do it at night. Because this is _infuriating._ At least it's quick, whatever they're saying, and Hannibal turns back to Newt, takes a firm hold of his elbow. "Come on."

"But," and Newt gestures at the tank and the control-panel because seriously, now? "I just... Come on, dude, we spent all day setting this up and we just got it to work and _readings_..." and he kind of makes grabby-hands but Hannibal shakes his head, pressing his mouth in a weird way that seems like a swallowed smile, maybe.

"Nothin' urgent," and Newt wails, just a little bit, shut up it was a wail and not a squeak, "Don't gimme that, kid, Li told me it's just a matter of waitin' on the readings now, and they'll be here when you get back. Now come on, I'm not inclined to let you stay here and irritate my head technician past the point of no return."

"Aww, Li," and Newt risks looking back at her, which gets him a little grunt-growl from Hannibal and the fingers on his elbow tighten, which, ok, he'll hurry, but he mouths _sorry_ at Li because honestly he didn't even realize he's been that bad but hey, and she shakes her head but gives him a little wave goodbye. Good, then. They're good? He thinks so, anyway, and Hannibal's towing him out of the lab and oh, right, JJ. She's sort of hovering in the door and gives Hannibal a tight little smile. Hannibal just huff-growls and pushes past her, and Newt might not be great with people but he just knows that the way she's reaching out to grab Newt is not going to end prettily.

So, yeah, "Uh, I think we need a moment?" he tries.

She doesn't look happy, but says, "Text me in ten or I'm coming after you," extra-loudly, probably to make sure Hannibal hears her. He did, if his irritated tug on Newt's arm is any guide, anyway.

Three steps of grumbly walking and, "Somebody spike your Gatorade today, little fella?"

"Wha-huh?" and great, Newt, that's super-intelligent.

"Don't get me wrong, I believe you're enough of a little shit to make anybody want to call in the muscle, but Li told me you weren't bad to work with once upon a time. So what's wrong, kid?" Newt kind of gapes and Hannibal gives him a little shake. "Better be that's somethin's up, or can I expect this kind of trouble every damn day?"

But Hannibal sounds... Worried would be a strong word, the wrong word, even, but pissed isn't right. And oh, right, talking, and there is something he's supposed to be asking, so, "I mean, that stomach, so maybe I got a little excited..."

"Naw, kid, I've seen you excited before and this ain't it. Somethin's got your all squirrely."

Maybe that's a fair cop? He hadn't noticed it but, yeah, there's a lot on his mind. "I guess I am a little..." and Hannibal gives him an encouraging little head-jerk, and right, he's been getting ready for this. "I just, ok, so I have sort of a favor to ask?" And that's a frown, there and gone like that, but, "It's not like, a big favor, and actually it's kind of for you, or for your business, or me and your business, I mean, more or less..."

Hannibal sighs and gosh that's weird - it's an awful lot like the noises Hermann makes when he's gotten real fed up with Newt, is all, and yeah, he wasn't exactly expecting those two had much in common. Apparently being all frustrated with Newt is the great equalizer, which is just great. "Well? Spit it out."

"So, um, you know Hermann? You met him that time you came to the Shatterdome, science guy, stupid parka, my best buddy, you remember..."

"Yeah, kid, I remember," and that's not a patient tone of voice. "Lars Gottlieb's brat."

"Ugh, _Lars_ , fuck that guy. Fuck him right in the eye," and Hannibal laughs at that, short and surprised. "He's part of the problem, I guess. I just know he's screwing with us, and Hermann..."

"That it?" And Hannibal doesn't look sympathetic, exactly, and yeah, no, not quite.

"Not really? So, uh, you know how Hermann and I are kind of it for the research division, and they're screwing him over, too, I mean, the UN is, and Lars, or they're trying to," and this is frustrating, he'd planned this out and it's not coming out right, not at all. "What I mean is, he's got us a lawyer and is looking over all of the job stuff and I just, I mean, I know you're busy but maybe if you had time..." And he pauses, risks a look at Hannibal, and yeah, gritted teeth, not a great sign. "So, I was wondering if we could, like, have a meeting? Where you let him and the lawyer look over my job contract if I came to work here, maybe, and it would also be good because he's... he's Hermann, and he's not so down with," and Newt gestures frantically between the two of them and god, Hannibal, say something, this is the worst.

Hannibal lets out a slow breath. "So what I got from that is you want your idiot friend and a lawyer to come on over here and take a look at the contract I'm offerin' you." And Newt nods, good, yes, maybe this is over. "Christ, kid."

"Hey," and that's not on, because his plan's pretty reasonable, actually.

"And you don't even wanna take a look yourself, first, because..."

And Newt jumps right in, because that seems like an inquiring pause. He's gonna go with that. "Well, I mean, I would, or I could, if you have it all ready and stuff, and I guess the contract is only part of it, like maybe an excuse-for-a-meeting part because... Ok, so, I guess it's not exactly a secret that the folks back 'dome aren't exactly thrilled that you're..." And yikes, wrong tack, Hannibal's grip on his arm is downright painful all of a sudden but the guy does let up when he tugs a little bit. "I just... So, it would be... better if my best dude could see that the you-and-me part is good? Or at least is not, like - ok, so I think he thinks you're mad, bad and dangerous to know." Hannibal barks out a little laugh, and yeah, no, that was not a good laugh. "I mean, in a way that means I'm doing something dumb, which I don't think I am, and I don't want to stop because, hey, wow," and that's an applause line but nope, Hannibal's face isn't moving, "I'm just saying, it would be better if my friends weren't all sure I'm marching off to doom when actually I'm marching off to awesome?"

"So you want me to play nice with your pal while we're talkin' business," and yeah, ouch.

"I guess I didn't think of it that way," Newt admits, because, yeah, so much for separation, right? "Maybe we can talk business and then there can be playing nice? Like, over lunch or something, we can send the lawyer home if we can convince Hermann that you aren't going to kill him right there and yeah, actually, so that's probably not gonna work at all, sorry, dude, it was a stupid idea, forget it, I'll think of something else..."

Hannibal spins him, real sudden, and Newt maybe, just maybe, squeaks a little bit but now he's facing Hannibal and yeah, that's a hard stare. "What's you game, here..."

"No game," and maybe that could be described as a yelp and yeah, keep talking. "I just... Ok, so, I really like," and he does you-and-me hands, a little bit less than usual but he doesn't want to whack Hannibal, not now, not when he's all loomy and scary. "I mean, it was good, right? I thought it was good, and I thought you thought it was good, and..."

"Real good, doc," and Hannibal's face is a little softer, his grip not so pinchy, so that's progress.

"Right." And now his brain's catching up to his mouth and oh god, is this a talk, is this a relationship talk, maybe it kinda is and yeah, no, he's going to just have to power through. "It's just... When I'm back at the Shatterdome, there's a lot of yelling and what-are-you-thinking-Newton and Hermann's really freaked out and I just want him to be ok and you to be ok and everything to be ok and I thought..."

"Relax, kid. I get the picture," and yeah, that's a better tone of voice and, double-bonus, Hannibal's kind of stroking Newt's shoulder with a thumb and yeah, ok, maybe he's freaking out a little bit.

"Oh, thank god," and that just came right out, didn't it, and Hannibal chuckles, cups Newt's face.

He nuzzles into Hannibal's hand without thinking except, "Oh, wait, is that, like, allowed..."

"Yeah, it's allowed, what the hell do you think," and still there's chuckling and everything is appreciably less awful and Newt just kind of lets his face rest in Hannibal's big palm for a minute. Then it's ruined because his stupid phone goes off, way loud in the quiet hallway and Hannibal hisses a curse, fingers too tense and hard along Newt's jaw. "Well? Hurry up, call off your guard dog," he growls and yeah, good call.

Newt stumbles back a step, fumbles around for his phone and yes, there. "Hey JJ," he mumbles.

"You all right? Ten minutes, I said..." And she sounds worried or maybe just pissed and jeez can everyone just stop.

"Sorry, dude, we're just... having a talk? About Hermann coming over, maybe, and I need a minute..."

"You sure everything's all right?" And that's worried, very little pissed, and he'll take what he can get.

"Yeah, only, we're not done, so..." And there's a sigh on the line.

"All right. You swear you're fine..."

"Totally," and hey, so long as it's awkward time, might as well go for gold. "Thanks, JJ, I mean it..."

"Naw," and her tone is a good bro-tone now. "You just call if you need me, you got it?"

"Got it," he says, and hangs up before there can be more yelling or questions or basically anything, really, because he's gone and used up his fighting-with-people quotient for the day.

Hannibal doesn't look happy, exactly, but he's not growling or frowning so Newt'll take it. "I need a drink," and that's a heavy sigh.

"Is that an invitation?" Newt throws in a hopeful smile for good measure and Hannibal chuckles a little, ruffles Newt's hair and it's such a relief that the yelling portion of this afternoon's festivities is apparently over that Newt doesn't even mind.

"Yeah, sure," and just like that, Hannibal half-pivots, slings an arm around Newt's shoulders like nothing just happened.

"So are we talking a drink, or a _drink?_ " and Newt beams up at Hannibal, waggles his eyebrows.

Hannibal snorts. "We'll see. I got meetings tonight. I let you blow me, can I trust you not to drool on my suit?"

"Totally," and yeah, even from behind the goggles he can tell that's a dubious look. "I mean, probably? You could always ditch the suit," he tries, and Hannibal snorts.

"Troublemakin' little punk," but that's definitely a fond sort of gripe.

"You know it," Newt admits, and there's chuckling and a nice grip on his upper arm and yeah, things are looking up.

Still, Hannibal's awfully quiet and it's kind of freaking him out, so, "Meetings, huh? That sounds pretty sucky," he tries.

Hannibal huffs. "'S the name of the game sometimes. Matter of fact, I'm thinkin' of sending you home for the night."

"What?" And that was a squawk.

"Relax," and Hannibal tugs Newt a little more firmly against his side. "Just got a few people comin' in, and calls with Moscow and Casablanca, that's all, figured you might wanna sleep in your own bed if I can't keep you company in mine."

"Oh," and he thinks on that for a second. "That would be... nice, actually. I mean, not as nice as..."

"Don't I know it," Hannibal groans and what is Newt, like, thirteen, because he can feel heat rush to his face and gosh, of course he knew that Hannibal wanted to do it, but, well, nice to hear? "We're gettin' to the last of this nonsense, or we god damn well better be."

And then Hannibal's turning him loose which, no, not so good, but, wait, it's just because they've reached the big gold doors of his suite. Newt turns his back in a totally-not-spying-on-your-password-dude way and Hannibal snorts but goes to fiddle with the lock and then snags Newt's arm and tugs him inside, over to the bar. Hot damn - he hadn't noticed before, but the whole thing is carved ivory, or at least there's a lot of ivory holding up the table part beneath the liquor shelves, and without really thinking about it he drops down to get close enough to make out the carvings. It's two enormous tusks, crossed like supports, covered in hundreds of little soldiers, it looks like, and this must have taken forever because the style of armor changes as you go from left to right. "This thing is awesome, dude, what does it mean?"

Hannibal snorts and nudges at him with a foot. "Means I liked the look of it. What're you drinkin'?"

"Whatever you're pouring," and for some reason that causes Hannibal to smile down at him all soft. "Seriously, dude, how old are these things..."

"Get up from there," Hannibal grouses, and there's clinking and yeah, ok, drink time.

"Fine," Newt grumbles, and Hannibal snorts at him again. "Don't tell me about your cool-ass carved tusks..."

"I'm too tired for your horseshit. Go sit down on the couch," and he doesn't sound like he means it, not really, but Newt does as he's told anyway because there will be no more yelling today, thanks.

Not that there isn't plenty to look at over here. He trips down into the sunken portion of the living room and heck yeah, this couch. It looks like one of those scary formal couches where you sit straight but it feels like it's giving you an upholstered hug. Hilariously, the big gold fireplace is crammed full of flatscreen tv and what looks like a pile of fake logs. "Don't tell me you play those fire videos in here," Newt calls and whoops, yeah, Hannibal's right there and giving Newt a look.

"Mostly use the thing to watch the news, truth be told," and Hannibal presses a drink into Newt's hand. He takes a gulp and yikes, wow, that's... It tastes like smoke, is what, smoke and money and burning, to be honest, but so help him, he's not gonna cough in front of Hannibal.

"Show some respect, moron, that's the good shit," and Hannibal gives his tumblr a prissy little swirl, takes a tiny sip. Newt laughs at him but follows suit and yeah, fine, it's better like that. At least he doesn't feel like his throat's on fire, anyway.

Hannibal gives a funny little grumble and settles back, flips open the arm of the sofa. Ok, he's gonna have to investigate that later because the tv is hooked up to it somehow, must be, because it flares to life and there's some weird gameshow where everyone's wearing foam armor and running around comes on.

"All right?" and Hannibal looks over at him. Newt throws the thumbs-up, which earns him a little chuckle, and Hannibal settles back into the couch and this close Newt can see him close his eyes behind the goggles. Newt scooches over a little bit, snug against Hannibal's side, and a big, warm arm comes around him. He'd been kind of meaning to put the moves on, but now that he's really looking, he can see that Hannibal's all hailed out and exhausted-looking and yeah, he can just sit. Well, sit, and snuggle, and maybe half-doze except he keeps startling himself awake when somebody wins something on the game show and yikes, hopefully Hannibal won't notice he's sloshed a little Scotch on the sofa. Maybe. Hopefully.

It can't have been long - ten, twenty minutes tops - when Hannibal straightens up with a big sigh. "Gotta get back to it," and that's a heavy sigh. He pulls his phone out, hits a button or two. "Somebody's comin' by to show you out."

"Now?" and he hates that he's whining, but, "I mean, I have a few hours of work left in me..."

"You set foot in that lab tonight and Li's gonna kill you and I won't blame her," but at least Hannibal's mouth's all twisted into a fond little quirk. "Call it a night, kid. Hell, take tomorrow morning, too."

"Ok?" and it stings a little, sure, but he could probably use the time back at the ranch. If nothing else, he's got laundry to do and a cranky Hermann to see to. "I mean, but I'm coming back, right?"

"Course you are. Keep an eye on your phone an' I'll let you know." And then there's a rap at the door and Hannibal hauls himself off off the couch, offers Newt a hand up. They're close, and he wants to tell Hannibal to get some rest, too, but that'd go over not at all, he's sure, and he just...

"Hey," he says, soft, and Hannibal tilts his head down a little bit. "Hey, goodbye," and Newt leans up and plants a soft kiss - well, he was aiming for Hannibal's mouth but kind of missed, got part of his chin instead, but that's ok because Hannibal cups a hand around his face and boom, mouth-on-mouth contact. Their mouths are closed, it's not much of a thing, but, yeah. It's... nice. It's really nice.

And then it's over and he's smiling and so's Hannibal and, "See you soon?"

"You got it, kid," and Newt just smiles, goofy, probably, but Hannibal's smiling back, so. "Now get." Whatever, parting, sweet sorrow, blah blah, and he just floats right on out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is a big fat list of things that are the best!
> 
> First, the wonderfully-styled kaijubollocks/lion produced the cutest lil' Newt with a red hair streak and I actually squealed out loud when it cropped up in my inbox and it's the best and I commend it to your attention: http://kaijubollocks.tumblr.com/post/64367797077/sort-of-fanart-for-confusedkayt-in-her-fic-newt
> 
> Next, writing this is *the best* and I really got a kick out of Hannibal swinging from scary to snuggly and I hope it was a fun read, too! That terrible moment where you think your new honey is trying to pull something on you but no, he's just real bad at talking about things like an adult.
> 
> And then... I cannot express the depth and breadth of my love for my lil' hookah bar, where I hang out and write and feel delightedly, decidedly at home. Today was the level best, because it was one of the guys' birthdays and there was singing and clapping and I made the cut for "person who is cool enough to get a slice of the birthday cake," which made me *super happy* because a) cake and b) I really love this place and it makes me so happy that I am, in some small way, part of the gang. So here, have some gratuitous pictures: http://confusedkayt.tumblr.com/post/64933736421/ive-done-all-of-my-pacific-rim-writing-in-one-of Gosh, the best little shisha bar this side of Luxor.
> 
> Finally, and most spectacularly- YOU GUYS ARE THE BEST. Gosh, gosh, the comments continue to be more fun than the writing, and I'm super grateful to you all for talkin' 'bout Pacific Rim with me. A shout-out to telm_393 this time through because our discussions of how a gold fireplace would even *work* led me to refine the idea of "fake logs because gold would certainly not hold up in the face of real fire" to "but wouldn't it be more fun/ridiculous if there was a tv in there amongst the fake logs." HANNIBAL WHY.
> 
> ANYWAY! I'm so glad you're reading along, and I hope you enjoy this bit!


	17. Roses Are Red

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place the night of Chapter 16 (so 10 days post V-K day)

Newt gets it. Dedication to the work, tunnel vision, health and safety are for losers, blah blah blah. That's kiiiiiiinda his schtick. But that's just it - it's _his_ schtick, and Hermann over there is seriously biting his style. Look, he's not gonna pretend that Hermann hasn't worked till he dropped many a time, but this? Yeah, it's different. First of all, no giant doom clock is forcing the pace or anything, and that ought to be enough right there. And it's... unsettling to see Hermann hooked into the Pons equipment for so long at a stretch, especially because he's not behaving in the most... scientific manner. There's a ton of muttering, and Newt can't pick up on most of it but he's definitely getting the occasional curse word from there and for once its not aimed at Newt. It doesn't even really seem to be aimed at the apparatus or the data. Free-floating curses? No bueno.

"Trying for a record, dude?" and yeah, no, that doesn't sound like a joke like, at all. Hey, he tried. "Good luck with that one, buddy, the Kaidanovskies went for _eighteen hours..._ "

More muffled cursing, but this is definitely aimed in Newt's general direction. Improvement? "Newton, we agreed that you'd be silent..."

"Yeah, _you_ agreed _I'd_ be silent, first of all..."

But Hermann's having none of that. "And if you cannot let me work in peace, I must ask you to take your reading _elsewhere._ "

"Ok," he drawls, and Hermann makes an exasperated noise. "It's just... Can I help at all? Like maybe hook me up for a while or something, dude, that doesn't seem..." 

That's like... the heaviest of Hermann sighs. Not good. Not good. "If you had listened to a single word..."

"Dude, I listened, but it's been like... more than an hour..."

A vicious headshake and that dislodges the Pons, at least, but that unleashes a fresh storm of cursing and really poisonous look. "I have explained to you that I have _extensive_ data regarding my neural function spanning a number of years, and thus I am the only suitable subject..."

"Ok, yeah, but subject for what though?" That's the sixty-four-thousand-dollar question but Hermann's thinned mouth and head shake make it pretty clear he's not gonna provide the answer.

"Dude, hey," he tries, and it comes out sort of soft and worried and maybe that'll get through but no, all it gets him is a slightly less sharp headshake.

"I will discuss it with you when I have _results,_ " and yeah, wow, that's... angry, but not a Newt-you-moron kind of angry so much as my-model-is-incomplete angry. Boy howdy does he know that one.

Hermann turns his back pointedly and yeah, there goes the helmet again. Newt sighs and clatters back into the stupid, uncomfortable stool the makes up the only real seating option in the scanning lab. Hermann doesn't even bother to complain about the noise. Fine. He'll just... Fine.

It's weird, because normally something like Hannibal's incredibly detailed - and props, wow, way to record under pressure, dude - description of Otachibi from the inside would be more than enough to send Newt blissfully off to Planet Science, but... It's weird, ok, but it's sort of freaking him out to think of this stuff happening to his... To a guy that he knows, ok, to a body that he's touched and plans to touch a lot more and it's... unsettling? Yeah. He's going with 'unsettling' - to think about this stuff happening to an actual particular person. Newt's going soft or something - he's read a lot of toxicology reports in his time, and god knows there are some pretty gory things to be found at kaiju kill sites when he's been lucky enough to get his samples fresh. This shouldn't be different but it _is_ somehow and...

"... to concentrate with your infernal _fidgeting_..." and yeah, Hermann totally meant for him to hear that.

"Ok," he says, and he feels super awkward, can feel Hermann's eyes on him. "You win. I'm just gonna..." and he takes a couple of steps toward the door and pretends not to hear Hermann's relieved little sigh. Ouch. "I'm coming back in an hour, dude," and he's kind of a chicken but he hops out the door and closes it behind him before Hermann's protest catches up with him.

Not that it'll do much to turn his frown upside down, but his laundry situation is definitely at a code red kind of place and that'll be more like an hour and a half and yeah, at that point he's hauling Hermann out of the Pons by any means necessary. Plus, bonus, it's a finite, easy kind of task that'll keep him from getting distracted and losing track of time and leaving his buddy to freak out in the scanning lab alone for too long. He's gotta admit, it stings a little bit - this was not exactly his vision for his glorious homecoming. He was thinking movie night, maybe some Oreos from the secret stash Hermann pretends he doesn't have, maybe even just chillin' with Beethoven in the likely event they don't agree on something to watch. Something, anyway, some kind of QT with his main man.

Well. It is what it is, and the laundry thing really is a thing - he's sick of running around Fancy Gangsterland in undershirts. Ok, yeah, a couple of the dress shirts he left next to the hamper to evaluate later are clearly too stained to bother with. Crap. He's down to like five shirts - maybe six? Nah, too much risk that weird brown will bleed off and screw up everything in the washer with it. He's gonna have to go shopping. Ugh. Normally it would be in and out but he'd bet money that it's going to be a whole thing, with armed guards and JJ laughing at him from outside the dressing room and actually, that doesn't sound so bad.

Anyway. It's high time he and his laundry bag made tracks. One benefit to the shitty location of the k-science quarters is that at least the laundry rooms are close by. And hey, double bonus, Tendo's in the laundry room, all bent over the handwashing sink.

"How's it hanging?" he cries and Tendo laughs at him, offers a sudsy five. Newt's not proud, but he is awesome - the impact's enough to send flecks of soap flying onto Tendo's shirt.

Tendo's cool, though, just laughs and shakes his head. "Didn't expect to run into anyone down here at this hour," and he kind of goes for a towel near his phone.

"Nah, dude, leave it on. Johnny Cash is always cool with me." Even if the sound quality's for shit. He'll have to see about whipping up some travel speakers for Tendo one of these days.

"And they say you have no taste," Tendo snarks.

Newt does mock-shock, hand over his heart and everything. "Who's this 'they?' Because if you're talking about Hermann, his taste ended when Latin lyrics went out of style."

Tendo just chuckles and goes back to his bucket-o-suds. Ugh, He's got the good washer all tied up, too - Newt's not even touching the big ones. They're done, yeah, and only jerks leave their wet stuff to sit, but he knows those towels and he messed with the kitchen's laundry one time. Never again. So he's stuck with the shitty little washer on the end. It's usually fine, but it's ridiculously noisy and there's nothing much to be done about it because it's a flaw in the floor more than with the machine and yeah, anyway, them's the breaks.

He's just about ready to rumble when Tendo appears from freakin' nowhere over his shoulder. "Easy on the bleach there, cowboy," and ok, so maybe he jumped a little, but at least he only sloshes a tiny bit of bleach on the floor and there's drains all over the place in here for that.

Tendo shakes his head and runs back to the sink, grabs the bucket they keep around for just such occasions Sure, some of the water spatters on his Docs but they've seen worse. "Not cool, dude," he gripes, and Tendo raises an eyebrow. "What? Gotta get that eu de ammonia out somehow, and Hermann says the bleach might kill 'those confounded alien germs,' which is bogus - well, prettymuch bogus..."

"Speaking of Hermann," and Tendo, what a guy, kicks the door of the washer shut and starts Newt's cycle for him, "where is the guy? Figured he'd be with you."

"Yeah, well," and Newt can't stop the pissy little sigh that slips right out of him. "He's got something going with the Pons."

Tendo gives thoughtful-face. "He was strapped in to that thing when I swung by this afternoon."

"Yeah, I know, not so good, but you know how it is, not like he'll listen to me..." and Tendo brushes by, nabs his phone.

"I'll get Mako on it," and he's busy typing out a text.

"Yeah, no, I mean, he was pretty determined..." and Tendo looks at him sideways and gosh, he's just saying, if he can't knock Hermann out of it...

"She's working with Herc tonight. Bet they can invent an official something that'll get him out of the lab long enough to realize how tired he is," and Newt kinda hates that carefully neutral tone almost as much as he hates the stupid weird feelings this whole mess is kicking up in him. It is clearly urgent that he check the settings on the washer, ok. Yep. Still good.

And yeah, no, enough of this. "Soooo," he drawls, and Tendo hits send with a flourish. "I was kinda hoping you'd help me out with something?"

"One, does it involve fire? Two, does it involve - wait, no, don't answer that. Shoot, Newt," and Newt snickers because that's a great little rhyme, actually. Tendo kicks up a smile, too. Right on.

"So, I want to put a red streak in my hair, and I think that's kind of a two-man job?" Tendo kind of purses his mouth and, yeah, ok, so maybe it's kind of a weird request? "I don't think it'll take too long or anything, like we can do it in here while the dryers go? I have all of the stuff - JJ and I stopped by a store, they gave me directions, which I mostly remember but they wrote them down. Granted, not like I can read them - Cantonese, right, that's a thing you do?"

Tendo's smile is pretty halfhearted, to be honest. "Yeah, Cantonese I got. But hey," a sigh, and Tendo smooths his hand over his hair all gingerly, "at the risk of sounding like an after school special, this isn't some kind of gang colors thing, right?"

Newt laughs, and he knows it sounds nervous and his grin is probably nervous too, but, "Nah, I mean, not a gang colors thing, except to the extent it's sort of a Hannibal thing, which I guess is gangster or gangster-adjacent?" And Tendo's making I'm-concerned-for-you-son face, which, no, so, "I mean, it was all my idea? But I think he'd like it, which is sort of where the idea came from, but listen, it's not, like..." And he's not sure exactly where he's going with this sentence but Tendo's not helping him out any, just waiting him out. "It's just... I like him, so I wanted to... And it's not like I couldn't stand to put a little glam in my rock, you know?"

Tendo makes a funny, twisty kind of face, blows out a long breath. "If you're sure, man. I just..."

"Nah, I mean, it's just hair, right? Not like I'm signing up for life. It gets weird, I can cut it right off," and yeah, he's cackling a little. Oh well. Tendo still looks unsure., so, "Or, you know, not, I can ask somebody else, I just... Listen, it was just a thought, I know you help Mako, so you know how, right, and if we're talking about healthy theme color decisions I think 'my new kissin' buddy' is a couple of steps above 'the blood of my ancestor-killing enemies,' but you know..."

And Tendo's laughing but his face says he's pretty sure he shouldn't be. "God, don't let her hear you say that."

"Nah, man, I value my life," and he grins, and Tendo's grinning back. "Soooo, was that a yes?"

"Sure," and Tendo looks pretty normal, so success? He's counting it.

"I'll just run go grab the stuff, we can do it in the sink here while the dryers run, maybe?" and Tendo waves a go-ahead. Newt flees the scene before the guy can change his mind, because he's not saying Tendo's his only option but he's the best one by a long stretch. JJ's a wash-and-go type of gal, and Mako... yeah, no, just a guess, but that would not go well. Hermann? Forget it. Anyway.

Huh. There's a package, plain brown paper, sitting in front of his door. No address, no note. Yeah, that's sort of nervous-making, but if it's from Hannibal - which, who else is going to send him weird stuff? Unless maybe he's got stalker fans now, what with the world-saving, which would be pretty great, actually, but how would they get stuff into the Shatterdome without at least addressing it? Probably they have security in the mailroom? Anyway. Maybe it's a dumb call but he snags it and dumps it on his bed. On a whim he snags the luma light from one top of his dresser and runs it over the thing. Still nothing. Screw this. He rips into the paper and there's a really heavy, expensive-feeling cardboard black box, which some jerk has taped shut and yeah, thats way too hard, so he just rips into that, too. Ok, definitely from Hannibal - there are three slightly shiny red button-ups in there. It's hard to tell in the low light in here, but he's pretty sure that at least one of them has some kind of pattern worked into it. Yeah, cool, but that'll be a little busy with his ink. Maybe for days he's got to keep the sleeves down? They aren't his style, really, but it's the thought that counts, right? And it's... Well, it's pretty nice that Hannibal's thinking of him when he's out of sight, out of mind. Oh, wait, there's more - under the shirts there's a whole mess of red boxer briefs. Those are - wow, yeah, that's the softest underwear he's ever felt. Those? Definitely going into the rotation. He prods around but there's nothing else in there, not even a note. Well. Thinking of you, but not that hard? That's not fair, exactly. I mean, big box full of surprise presents, right?

Anyway, he's screwed around enough. Not that he thinks Tendo would run out on him or anything, but there's no sense testing his patience when he's already a little reluctant, and besides, it's a dog-eat-dog world in the laundry room and his wash cycle's probably already just about up. He snags the bag of hair-dye stuff and a ratty old lab towel that's he's like 90 percent sure is clean, even if he's not exactly sure what's it's doing in his room in the first place, and skedaddles back to the laundry room.

Sure enough, there's someone in there - a tech, he thinks? He's seen the guy around, anyway, even if he can't put a name with the face - eyeing his washer with intent. "Sorry, dude," he calls, and the guy gives a guilty start.

"If you're done..." the guy starts.

"Sure, let me just grab my stuff," and maybe he kind of nudges the guy out of the way but seriously, he's right here. Calm down, guy. There's no graceful way to transfer laundry, no matter how yucky the feeling of wet shirt through rapidly-dampening t-shirt is, but it gets the job done.

"So," and the guy kind of grunts but fair enough, he's all bent over his laundry. "So my friend's gonna help me dye my hair in the big sink, unless you need to hand-wash or something?" The guy straightens up and kind of wrinkles his nose. "I mean, do you?"

"Well, no..." and yeah, that's the beginning and the end of legit protests to this process, far as Newt's concerned.

"Great," Newt chirps, and the guy makes a sour face. Fine, maybe it's a little weird - and where is Tendo anyway, he better not have done a runner, that would suck, but his washer's still full, so probably not? That would be a jerk move. Anyway, who wants Frowns-a-lot over there hovering over their punk hair party, so, "I mean, if you want, I can toss your stuff in the dryer so you don't have to hang around."

The guy looks dubious, and then Tendo strolls in. "Hey, Jake," he calls, and sure, he'll smile for Tendo. He waves his hand - wait, no, a little pink packet, actually - at Newt. "Sweet-n-lo really takes the sting out of bleach-jobs, Trust me, you'll thank me later."

The guy looks between the two of them. "So you can throw my clothes in the dryer?"

"Sure thing," Tendo says, and the guy kind of nods a half-assed thanks and scrams. Whatever.

"Thought you'd run off on me," and Newt's laugh is way flatter than the teasing he'd be going for. Yikes.

Tendo lets it go, though, and just shucks his shoulders out of his suspenders. "Lose the shirt, unless you don't care if it gets stained. The sink's not exactly precision equipment," he orders, and hey, this Newt can do. Tendo shrugs out of his button-up, kicks out a stool from under the little counter at the side of the room and gestures for Newt to sit. "All right, boss, show me what you got."

Newt cackles and waggles his eyebrows and Tendo chuckles. "In your dreams," he sing-songs and snatches up the bag of hair-dye equipment. He's measuring and pouring the developer-that-smells-like-death into the cheap little plastic bowl they'd sold Newt earlier. "So what are we thinking here?"

"I was thinking front, like," and he gestures, an inch or two maybe, "yay wide, maybe sort of off to the side? Think Polgara the sorceress." Tendo gives him a blank look, and really? "No David Eddings? Dude, you're missing out. Ok, fine, think Rogue from X-Men and if you don't know that one..."

"Who could forget Anna Paquin in that suit?" and the guy's doing him a favor so Newt refrains from screaming because really? Tendo's allegedly cool, is all.

Ok, no, he can't keep all the way quiet. "Ok, dude, I will admit that those movies weren't the worst but really? That's your first thought?"

Tendo laughs at him, moves behind him to carefully comb his hair flat, separating out a hunk on the right-ish side. He only wriggles a little bit when he's stabbed with bobby pins and hey, Tendo's not complaining. "I'm just saying, those skintight suits were a formative experience."

"I guess that's fair," he grumbles.

Tendo brandishes a brush at him. "Damn straight. Don't question the man about to put toxic chemicals on your head."

"Dude, that's usually my line," and Tendo laughs outright.

"Fast times down there in the research division, huh? Should I be worried that Hermann's gonna mutate?"

Newt will admit his laughs a little nervous. "I mean, probably not? Not physically, anyway, I was totally kidding about the chemicals..."

"So that's worrying," Tendo says, matter-of-fact. He's gloved-up at some point, and mushes his fingers through Newt's hair with one hand, carefully flattening out the rest with his clean glove. It's weirdly comfortable. "We're worrying about mutation?"

"We're not," and ok, that's... mostly true? He'd feel it if he was turning kaiju-brained, he's pretty sure. They aren't exactly subtle, is all he's saying. "Maybe Hermann is, though, a little bit? I'm pretty sure that's what all this," and yeah, no, a Pons-helmet gesture is gonna mess with the hair dye, but Tendo probably gets it, right? Right, "is all about? Like he's freaking out about the possibility of ghost Drift..."

"Yeah, he mentioned," and yikes, he'll tell _Tendo_ but he won't breathe a word to Newt, no, of course not, why would he...

"Hey," and Tendo's voice is gentle. "Hey, I had to basically force it out of him. I threatened to cut all power to the scanning lab to get him to spill and even then I think he only did it because he knew I could see his readings."

"Yeah," and that's better, it is, except Newt's pretty sure that Hermann is only marginally happier about the possibility of ghost-Drift with his main main and that shouldn't bug him, but... Ok, he gets it, he does, neural integrity, Hermann's brain is a temple, blah blah blah, but the guy literally wrote the book on Drifting and he had to have known when he offered that the Drift is forever, right? And it had meant something, he knows it, he'd felt it firsthand in the damn Drift in question, and so it's... weird and hard and stupid that Hermann's all freaked out now and, like, putting himself at risk just to make sure that he doesn't have to have Newt in his head, and...

And Tendo's hand is on his shoulder. "Hey, buddy, you all right? Kind of lost you for a second there," and Newt gives him a thumbs-up and a what is probably a watery little smile.

Tendo rocks back on his heels. "I'll tell you something else he said. He said it would not be disastrous to retain some portion of your neural makeup, provided it was contained. Coming from Hermann that's practically a love-letter to your brain."

Even if Tendo's lying, it's a good lie - that sounds like Hermann, and yeah, fine, it does make him feel a little better. "What a grump, geez," Newt mutters, just to have something to say, and Tendo gives him a little pat on the arm before sliding back behind him. There's a weirdly metallic rustling, and then gloved fingers are carefully wrapping the gunked-up section of his hair in foil.

"Uh, not to freak you out, but that feels really hot?" He doesn't mention the stinging, because he's not a weenie, but just in case...

"Yeah, that's the price you pay for bleaching, my man," and Tendo's little grimace is all sympathy. "Just stick it out - it'll hurt like Hades but it's over in less than a hour."

"The things I do for, uh..." and yikes, he's not even gonna finish that thought, because 'love' is a strong word even if he's just being flip but Tendo's giving him a look and yeah, no, he's successfully freaked himself out.

"So how's your horrifying honeybear?" and that startles a laugh out of Newt. Tendo shrugs, unrepentant. "I'm just saying, dude, to each their own, but..."

"Oh, so we're doing this?" and he swings his legs, lands a light kick on a laughing Tendo's shins. "Yeah? We're doing this? Well, then, I'm just saying, we're not just talking kaiju, although we are totally doing that because holy shit that guy knows his way around a dissection, which is pretty cool, but I don't mind telling you that I am in a position to know that the guy is hung like a kaiju, and we ain't talking Category 1."

Tendo dissolves into giggles. "Has there been a Breach Event?" He holds up a hand, all Stop! In the Name of Love. "No, don't answer that..."

Newt snorts. "I'm just sayin'..."

"Yeah, well, don't say..."

Newt laughs again, maybe just a little manic. "Dude, you literally asked..."

"Which I now sincerely regret. Oh, brother." Newt snorts, and Tendo gives him a little shoulder pound. "You sound happy when you talk about him and that's really all I wanted to know." Newt opens his mouth, and Tendo shakes his head. "Nuh-uh. I just... I worry about you, but it seems like you're doing all right, so..."

And he's not sure where he's supposed to go from here, so... But he's saved from awkward segues because Tendo's fiddling with his phone. "Well, you'll be happy to hear that they pried Hermann out of the Pons," and Newt raises the roof which is not something one should snicker at _Mr. Choi._ "But the fake situation is now a real situation that I have to run off to deal with." Newt kind of grabs for his head but Tendo smacks his hand. "Look, I'm not gonna leave you hanging. Let me go check on this, and I'll be back before it's time to rinse. Don't touch it, no matter how much it hurts, you got that?"

"Got it," and his I-am-totally-competent nod is lost on Tendo, who more or less cut out running. Huh. Yeah, that's getting investigated. _Whatcha doing?_ he texts Hermann. He doesn't get an immediate answer, not that he was really expecting one - and oops, now that he's thinking about it, that wasn't exactly subtle. Ugh. Now that Tendo's gone there's nothing to distract him from the awful, boring, noisy wait for laundry. He lasts about two seconds before he hauls his phone out again. Still nothing from Hermann. Hmmm. He knows a guy who could use a text. And hey, he owes a thank-you. In fact... Newt stretches his arm out and tries for come-hither. Yikes. That's going to selfie-jail; it's basically duckface, and he is too good for that. All right, he'll just grin and... Yep. That'll do. He dashes off, _Thanks for the loot. PS this'll be red tomorrow._ And then he throws in _xoxoxo_ and hits send before he can talk himself out of it.

At least someone in his life understands instant gratification. His phone starts ringing almost immediately, and he picks it up. "Hey dude," and yeah, no one's here and the rhythmic thumping of the washer is giving him ideas, suddenly, so, "What're you wearing?"

The laugh-purr that comes over the line gives Newt a little shiver. "No time for that - I got somebody on the other line." Newt makes a grumbly noise, and there's a short laugh. "I know, I know. Just called to tell you - don't send pictures this way. Ain't secure."

Yeah, that was not the reaction he was going for. "Dude, I thought this was a burner phone..."

Hannibal makes a grumpy noise - maybe he wasn't supposed to know that? Oh well. "And that's one of the reasons there's a security issue."

"Yeah, I'm sure there are legions of people just dying to hack my adventures in hair-dye..."

Hannibal barges right in. "It's a nervous time and some of the lowlifes in this town have shit for brains and might be lookin' to get to me. Not givin' them a reason to go lookin' for you, you got me?"

"It's that bad, huh?" and yeah, great, what a deep contribution to this conversation, Newt, step it up.

"You don't know the half of it," Hannibal growls, and there's a pause. "Where the hell are you? That noise..."

"Oh, I'm in the laundry room," and Hannibal's disbelieving snort is a reminder that he's palling around with people who are way too cool to wash their own clothes so, "which is also the putting-a-red-streak-in-my-hair room, there's this big industrial sink..."

Yeah, that's a hot little growling noise. He done good with this one, he can tell. "Lookin' forward to seein' that on you, kid, and that's the truth. Check your e-mail," and then click, yikes, hung up on. Again. Ugh.

Now there really is nothing to distract him - except for throwing Jake the Jerk's clothes in the dryer - he's setting it on high, hope there's something shrinkable in there. His head really does burn, and it's loud as anything in hear, and it's making his skin all itchy. Ugh. It'll probably take too long to go get some reading and yeah, this is his life. Newton Geiszler, 6 PhDs, has nothing better to do than play phone tetris in the laundry room. The things he does for gangster-rock style.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH MAN. This week! It has been crazy awesome, but also crazy-busy. First there was the trail-end of Pacific-Rim-a-thon, which stole me away briefly to do some stuff for my crew, Coyote Tango. And then came the World Series; I'm a major league (heh) Red Sox fan, so that was, shall we say, A VERY EXCITING SERIES OF EVENTS for me! And also Halloween.... Gosh, I can't even... I went to the most decadent, over-the-top, awe-inspiring party I can ever hope to attend. It was meant to be a 1936 premiere of a fictitious film called "Curse of the Mummy," and themed dress was mandatory so I spent the evening keeping company with a couple thousand archaeologists and pharaohs. They built several souks and an Egyptian temple, complete with temporary white-sand floor, and there were strange mummy-themed performance art pieces, movie crews wandering around, actors who seized you (and in our case sketched up a storyboard of our role in the movie, which was apparently to valiantly battle mummies from all sides and, I'm pretty sure, eventually die)... It was ridiculous, and I didn't roll out until 6 am even though I had work the next day. Oof. What I'm saying is LIFE IS GRAND and also sorry for the delay! At least I was the fabulous kind of busy? *sheepish face*
> 
> In the interim, I'm so glad you've been enjoying and thanks to everyone for letting me know their thoughts. Holy buckets - I will not lie to you, I am basically broken with delight at nearly 7k hits and more than 250 kudos (!!!!) not to mention the continuing joy I am taking in the comments section! When I started writing this it never crossed my mind that I would gain real, amazing friends over the course of the experience and it just makes my life so much better. And that's leaving aside the fun folks who I am just getting to know or who prefer to chat briefly - also interactions that I treasure.
> 
> WELP. That was unseemly. Hermann has secondhand embarrassment for me, I'm pretty sure. :D Anyway, here you go, readers new and faithful, and I sure hope you enjoy and if you'd like to leave a comment, you can bet your bottom dollar that I'd love to chat with you!


	18. Poor Unfortunate Souls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place the day after Chapter 17 (so 11 days post V-K Day)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS (these are very spoilery, so if you aren't a warnings-type person I would skip): Both Hermann and Hannibal elbow and/or pinch Newt to give him hints as to how to behave, which is probably unhealthy. I am... not really sure if this needs a warning, but Hannibal reveals that the UN and folks behind the Wall were considering very harsh, probably high civilian casualty measures involving WMD and that's probably upsetting enough to warn for? Newt is certainly upset, and his inner monologue verges on panic-attacky, so warnings for that as well. Also, Hannibal is really consent-cautious but there is a sort of surprise kiss that feels dub-con-esque to me although there are subsequent clear discussions of what's ok in the moment. Kissing is used as a coping/distraction strategy. Finally, Newt just sort of dislikes Hermann's chosen attorney on principle, but he's a little body-shamey about chubbiness and sweatiness in his inner monologue.

"Will you stop fidgeting?" Newt would protest, he really would, but he is kinda bouncing, now that Hermann points it out, and ow, geez, that elbow to the side was a clear warning shot, and even that was hard enough to jostle him into the side of the improbably rotund lawyer-guy crowded against Newt's right.

"Sorry, dude," he mutters, because his papa raised him right.

The lawyer - yeah, Newt refuses to remember his name, the guy is clearly a prick and is probably pictured in the Wikipedia article for The Man - emits an unpleasant little chuckle that just screams phony. "Think nothing of it," he assures - and that accent, ugh, how did Hermann even _find_ a German lawyer in Hong Kong on this kind of notice - but yeah, right, the guy is totally throwing his own 'bow. At least he's going for his handkerchief, which is some kind of excuse, and he is sweating like sweat went out of style so maybe he really needed it and wasn't just taking revenge.

"Sure, pick on the little guy, like I _wanted_ to take the middle seat," and he thought he was muttering but the quarters _are_ awfully close and Hermann's elbow parks warningly in the crook of his side. "I mean, uh, I'm sure we're almost there and hopefully we can make this quick because time is money, like, literally, right, you guys charge by the minute, ow, Hermann, geez, I'm just trying to make conversation."

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean," says Hermann all serenely and yeah, right, Newt's probably going to have a bruise but it won't even show against his tatts so he can't even show it off later to make him feel all guilty. "Now, do keep still. This is trying enough without enduring your ceaseless prattle..."

"Don't make me stop this car, boys," and sure, JJ can sound amused, all comfy in bucket-seat shotgun. "We're almost there."

"I should hope so," Hermann grouses, and Newt can see JJ stiffen a little. Argh. Hermann's pissed to be out of the lab, he gets that, how could he _not_ after the 20 minutes of shouting during which Hermann had somehow still managed to e-mail and secure the attendance of Douchey Lawyer on like a half-day's notice because Hermann is terrifyingly efficient when enraged. Anyway, he was sure Hermann and JJ'd get along, at least, and if Hermann's already picking fights it's hard to see how any of this is going to go well. At all.

Newt's about to work up a good mutinous mutter but Douchey Lawyer must have a sixth sense or something because he clears his throat in a hasty-type way and catches Newt's eye. Yeah, he's seen more convincing smiles on Hannibal's stuffed Nile crocs. "I assume you have read over the retainer? You signed it, yes?" Newt nods, and he must look mutinous or something because Hermann makes an irritated little hissing noise. "Then you know that you are being represented free of charge as part of our work with reconstruction-related charities." A movement in his peripheral vision - that's Hermann, ducking his head and blush-frowning. Argh. Of course Newt managed to hit a sore spot - "taking charity" is right up there with "Lars" on the Hermann Gottlieb List of Rage Induction. The lawyer shifts, looks annoyed - oh, right, he wants Newt's attention. "Have no fear about the minutes ticking away. Although I will thank you to keep an eye on the clock regardless, as I have a 4 o'clock call..."

"Don't worry, boss, we're here," and good, at least JJ's as pissed off by this prick as Newt is. It's weird, pulling up to the front of the workshop/lair - he hasn't really done that since before the Breach closed.

It's kind of a production to get all four of them out of the car, and he doesn't miss Hermann's little flinch when the car peels out almost as soon as the door shuts. Yeah, this is going just great.

Hermann's mouth's all thinned to nothing as they pick their way up narrow stairs, and Newt can't help but giggle -it's awful, pitched too high, but _come on,_ there's so many guards at the door that Lawyer Guy and JJ have to scoot in sideways (and who knew gangsters would step aside for Hermann? _Badass._ ). Once they all pile in, the shopfront's a clown car, all eleventy billion guards plus the four of them. They rate the red carpet treatment, because the bald lady - and yeah, he must be freaking out a little because he hadn't even noticed her - emerges from the crowd and does whatever crazy mojo it takes to open the walls, and the way she waves them in is totally calculated to freak everyone out. Hermann gives a leery look to the crazy Escher shelves - oh, geez, the grooved floor, but that's no worse than the holes in their lab floor at the Shatterdome, right? Right? Anyway, he jerks his head to indicate Newt should step in front of him. "And they say chivalry is dead," he stage-whispers and Hermann sigh-groans but falls in close behind Newt nevertheless.

Oh, wow - it's dark, way darker than usual, dim light pooling in places from sources he can't pinpoint right away. Huh. There's nothing on the workshop floor, nothing at all. He kind of scrambles out, peering around for the equipment, the specimens, somebody, but before he gets more than a couple steps in there's a loud clink and yeah, hello, there's Hannibal, oozing out of a shadow in the back of the room. He kind of saunters forward, pausing in one of the pools of light. It's gotta be intentional - it's dim enough that the light catches on his teeth, his earrings, his shoes, even the gold threads in his shirt. "Can't say you don't make an entrance," and wow, talking seems too loud in here all of a sudden. Hannibal kind of turns his head, wrinkles up in what might be a mild frown. "Where..." But he's cut off when Hannibal strides forward two steps, three, and leans down to press a dry, scratchy kiss to Newt's cheek. He'll admit it - a little thrill goes through him, just for a second, because that's something, isn't it, but then it's spoiled because Hannibal rumbles "Keep a lid on it, kid," against his ear. A big hand brushes briefly against the side of his head. "Lookin' good," and yeah, that's a deeper register, and Newt can't help the little shiver that runs through him. Hannibal notices, he must, because he gives a pleased little hum before backing up a step.

Hermann looks pretty badass, actually, backlit a little bit, both hands folded atop his cane, and doing his best Dark Lord of the Side-Eye. "Mr. Chau," and yeah, that's on the snippy side of polite.

"Dr. Gottlieb. Glad you could make it," and Hannibal's voice gives nothing away. Newt's pretty sure he's the only one who can hear Hannibal's little snort when Hermann deigns to incline his head like a fraction of an inch. "And Müller. Guess you got my release."

"Yes, thank you, everything is in order," and Newt almost feels sorry for the poor guy - he's patting his handkerchief pocket forlornly,which, yeah, he's sweaty as hell, but it's totally not the moment for handkerchiefs. Who knows - maybe that's some kind of grave insult to Hannibal's hospitality?

Speaking of which, Hannibal tucks Newt's arm under his, very old-school promenade. Hermann looks like he's sucking a lemon - oh yeah, Hannibal is very deliberately placing himself between Newt and his buddy. Before anybody can get all worked up, though, Hannibal strides forward - Newt falls into step with him without thinking - and sets off toward the back hall without so much as glancing back to see if everybody's following them. There's enough racket that he's pretty sure they are.

Newt's kind of learning his way around; it's dark-ish, and the hallways are weirdly empty, so that's disorienting, but he's like 90 percent sure that they're headed for the guestrooms portion which is... weird, actually, but no, one of the guards scrambles forward to open a door and it's just a conference room. Newt's pretty sure it's the same one he's seen before, but who even knows in this place? Hannibal guides him around the heavy table, pulls out a chair and gives him a gentle little push. Newt can take a hint - well, he can take a hint that broad, let's be real, here - and settles himself in the chair. Hannibal snorts, shoves the chair closer to the table and Newt didn't squeak, shut up. "Christ, kid," he mutters, but settles into the big chair right next to Newt. The bald lady files in behind him, and Newt cranes his neck to see that two burly hat guys are flanking her. Yikes. This is not exactly the set-Hermann-at-ease playbook.

Not that the guy seems to need anything by way of reassurance. He calmly pulls up the chair directly across from Hannibal. "The contract?"

Hannibal chuckles. "Cut right to the chase, don'tcha." He jerks his chin up and the bald lady glides forward, shoves a fat folder - wait, whoa, where did that even come from - in such a way that it goes skidding over the table. Hermann doesn't move a muscle, but Douchey Lawyer hastens forward to grab at it and settles down into the chair next to Hermann. JJ gives the guy a filthy look, narrows her eyes at Newt - and seriously, what, he's just sitting there - and goes for the seat on Hermann's other side.

Man, this silence is _tense silence._ He squirms in his chair a little bit and the sound of it is way loud and yikes, oof, Hannibal pinches Newt's thigh under the table without seeming to move at all, and that's definitely a tiny bit of Hermann kick catching the edge of his leg.

Hannibal angles his head down, scowling. "Did you just..."

"Apologies. You were not the intended target," Hermann deadpans.

Hannibal snorts. "I'm gonna like you, I can tell."

Hermann's lemon-sucking face makes it abundantly clear that this sentiment is not mutual.

Douchey Lawyer clears his throat - probably it's supposed to be authoritative and stuff, but he looks a little nervous so it doesn't come off. "Pardon me, but, I had not expected to see a contract pertaining to Dr. Gottlieb..."

Hermann draws a sharp breath and turns his head just slightly, probably enough to catch Douchey Lawyer in his peripheral vision. "Excuse me?"

"No funny business, Doc. I got no use for a mathematician." Oh, yikes, that's not gonna score Hannibal any points, but Hermann's not yelling which is... unusual? "It's all above-board - full time on the PPDC's dime, and I think you'll like their new terms a little better."

Hermann scowls, pins his eyes on Hannibal. "And I am to trust the authenticity of an offer on behalf of a governmental organization coming from you..."

Hannibal chuckles again, short and dark. "Trust? Nah, Doc, you're not that stupid. Müller'll check into it, and find out it's on the up-and-up."

"Certainly," Douchey Lawyer says, and his hand drops to his phone pocket likes it's a reflex. Hannibal gives him a short nod, and he finishes the gesture, pulling his phone onto the table. It seems to be a comfort gesture more than anything - he doesn't fire it up, just glances between Hermann and Hannibal. "Of course, with agreements of this complexity I will need some time..."

"Course you will," Hannibal agrees, and Douchey Lawyer relaxes back into his chair.

"Don't go into poker, dude," Newt mutters, glaring at the guy, and Hannibal jostles him a little bit in a warning type of way.

"Now, I got things to show the good doctors that you don't have the security clearance for," Hannibal says, nodding at Douchey Lawyer, who looks alarmed. "You wanna stick around here and wait, or..."

Douchey Lawyer glances nervously at Hermann. "I do have other matters to attend to today..."

"I would not dream of detaining you, Mr. Müller." Hermann doesn't move an inch even when Douchey Lawyer whacks him with an elbow in his haste to get up. _Stone cold._ "I, too, must be going."

"Nah, Doc, you wanna see what I'm gonna show you."

Hermann's face is all polite doubt. "I'm sure you will understand my reluctance to engage in discussions without representation..."

"No negotiations, Doc, just information from me to you."

Hermann turns his head, and Douchey Lawyer freezes in place like he's caught in a glare tractor beam. He turns back to Hannibal, though, cool as anything, and, "And you will provide this... information out of the goodness of your heart, I am to assume?"

Hannibal chuckles. "Nah, I got a vested interest in keeping Geiszler here around," and yikes, wow, was not expecting the casual hand that curls around his shoulder, "and I'm willing to play a little hardball to get what I want." Business, business, this is just business, but the way Hannibal's talking makes something warm flare up in Newt's belly. He's good, though, and doesn't squirm. Much. "But last I checked, lawyers don't have military research clearance, so..." Hermann's eyes flick to the side, to JJ's side. Hannibal clearly tracks the movement, because, "Your guard dog? That's another story. She can stay."

"Woof," JJ mutters, and Hannibal's mouth kicks up at the corner, just for a second.

"Very well. I will contact you later, Mr. Müller," and the guy backs up a couple of steps before he remembers himself, straightens, turns around to walk out normally.

"You want me to call the car?" JJ calls after him.

Douchey Lawyer grinds to a clearly reluctant halt. "No thank you, I'll be happy to take a taxi..."

Hannibal turns, just slightly, says something in Chinese and one of the muscle guys starts toward the door. "Nah, Remy'll get you where you need to go."

"Thank you," Douchey Lawyer says and lets himself right on out, not even pausing to hold the door for the hatband guy which is a pretty bold move, actually.

As soon as the door clicks shut, the bald lady slides a datapad across the table to Hermann. Hermann tilts his head just slightly, half-assedly inquiring.

Hannibal jerks his head in a well-pick-it-up manner and Hermann, bless him, waits a beat, pulls out his handkerchief and covers the hand he uses to reel the pad in. Newt cranes his neck to see if that pisses the bald lady off, but he really can't tell - her face is sort of set to perma-pissed, so. Hannibal snorts. "Take your time, Doc. Got something I want to consult Geiszler here on anyhow." Hannibal kicks his chair back to get up rand Newt takes the hint, wriggles out of his chair, too, even though he's _dying_ to know what's on that datapad. Hermann won't quite look at him - ouch, yeah, maybe this is bad friend behavior, but he's pretty sure provoking a pissing contest in the conference room is even worse. JJ makes to get up and nuh-uh, he's not leaving Hermann here alone. He shakes his head, maybe just a little frantically, and JJ narrows her eyes at him but settles against the back of her chair, pointedly puts her phone on the conference tabletop.

Hermann's face is blank but his tone is tight as he says, "I trust your... employees will leave with you."

"You got it," Hannibal drawls, and the muscle guy and the bald lady move for the door when he follows it up with a little jerk of his head. "C'mon," he rumbles, catching Newt's elbow and kind of towing him out the door.

He's dying, dying here, but who knows what the soundproofing is like in this place and he doesn't want to set anybody off - not Hermann, not Hannibal, not anybody - so he makes it three whole steps before "Come on, dude, what's even on that datapad?" escapes him. It's not even voluntary.

Hannibal snorts at him. "Curiosity killed the kid," but Newt can tell his heart's not in it. "Just a couple contracts, some schematics." Newt wriggles, outraged - he knows when he's being screwed with, thank you very much - and Hannibal cups his neck in a big hand, a fond little laugh. "Keep your shorts on, runt, I'll give you the gist. Nobody but nobody thought that Wall was gonna work. Nah, it was just Phase One. Get people the hell off the coast and then go straight to the Breach with the big ones. Not just nukes - too messy, and they're shit for accuracy that deep in the ocean. Nah, the bigwigs knew they'd need somethin' bigger and badder than nukes to waste the kaiju right where they came out." Newt stopped walking somewhere in there because what - just, _what_... Hannibal hooks a thumb in his vest pocket, smirks at him. "You're lookin' at the UN's best weapons contractor. I know how to hit so it counts."

There's about a zillion thoughts tripping over themselves - how, what kind of weapons, but waiting at the Breach isn't feasible, the pressure is hell on machinery that deep over the long-term, did they use Hermann's models - and what comes out is, "Ok, so, but, environmental damage, right, the collateral damage of anything that would..."

"Got it in one, genius." Hannibal's not smiling any more, which is... probably good, because, just... "Don't need fancy models to tell you that that kind of artillery would foul the oceans six ways to Sunday, and who needs specifics to know that ain't exactly Plan A for livin' long-term. But the kaiju started winnin', kept on comin'... Things get a little desperate, you start lookin' at desperate solutions. Better to fuck up the whole damn planet then hand it to those blue-blooded bastards."

Oh jeez, oh jeez, his ears are buzzing, there's just... The implications are... And there are big hands on his shoulders, pushing him down to sit on a bed - and ok, what, they've apparently been walking, they're in some sort of guest room. Hannibal's down too, warm against his side, and weirdly enough that's enough to sharpen his spinning thoughts into words. One at a time, Newt. "So you were..."

"Developin' weapons, yeah, but I sure as hell hadn't handed 'em over yet, not to those yellow-bellied sons of bitches. Swore up and down they weren't gonna use the things, not yet, but they'd pull the trigger the first time one city went down hard and then where would we be. Took their money, though, hedged my bets." A dark chuckle, hard enough to jostle Newt but an arm falls on his shoulders, steadying. Grounding. "Lucky it never came to that."

"But why..." Hannibal gives him a little shake and yes, sentences, this is information that he wants. "Hermann?" he manages.

"Lots of reasons," and god, it's sort of awful that Hannibal sounds so calm. "First among 'em, ol' Pentecost knew it all and dollars to dimes someone at PPDC's gonna find some real interestin' files one of these days."

"Pentecost..." Newt repeats, numb and silly and Hannibal runs a firm hand down his spine.

"Yeah. Comes down to him and Lars Gottlieb, I know who I'm bettin' on. So I spilled my guts, gave him funding and a deadline." A shrug. "Guess he met it."

Newt's mouth is moving but he's pretty sure there aren't sounds coming out of it. Hannibal makes a weird little shushing noise, hand stroking up and down Newt's spine and yeah, no, he's not gonna be soothed. "So why am I tellin' you all this, and your buddy besides?"

"Before you kill me, tell me your plan," Newt mumbles and Hannibal bark-laughs, short and sharp.

"Christ, kid. Just insurance, that's all. Hard to make me disappear when the big heroes know what I know, and what I did. You think Hansen's gonna keep quiet if I get disappeared? Won't do 'em any good and they know I got contingencies if they get any ideas." The petting stops, hand reaching around to squeeze his shoulder. "It's just gravy that your little buddy can see what his daddy done and how yours truly stopped him dead and robbed him blind all to keep the Jaegers running."

Newt's speechless. He doesn't do speechless. It's more that there's too many words vying to come out of his mouth all at once, and just, "So Kaiju Remedies..."

Hannibal snorts. "Why do you think they came my way? Nobody knows how to take a kaiju apart like yours truly," and wow, priorities, but that makes Newt bristle a little bit, "Don't gimme that look, I'm not knockin' your plasma canons. Those things are brutal, kid, gotta hand it to you. But they weren't comin' to you with something like this." A squeeze. "Nah, they needed someone like me, down an' dirty." Another grim chuckle. "Course, they're still government. They paid, yeah, but not like kaiju guts pay."

Newt kinda takes that in and yeah, no, he's no longer driving the boat on what comes out of his mouth even a little bit, his brain's whirring and his mouth's trying to catch up, and "I'm gonna need to see it - all of it, dude, I want diagrams and tests and..."

Hannibal chuckles. "Calm down. Course you will - cat's outta the bag."

Which - god, he is the _worst_ ,although in his defense, wow, distraction, "Hermann - I just, I should..."

"Nah," and Hannibal's grip gets tight, tight enough that each individual finger digs into him and wow, yeah, the little points of pain tether him down to his body and he almost appreciates it, which, what. "Guy like that? I got his number - you walk on him now, he'll never forgive you. Gotta be alone for something like this."

"JJ," Newt starts, but Hannibal cuts him right off.

"Nah. She's just background - security, just another piece of equipment. But you..." Hannibal pauses. "You walk in on him just now, he'll crack. And that's something he won't forget."

Newt swallows, hard, because that... feels true, and it's unnerving, to think that someone looked at Hermann and _knew_ him, knew something like that, when it took Newt _years_ to figure out the least little things. "So I need... I mean, you've gotta have another datapad, because I need..."

"You need to calm down, is what." And that's so ridiculous Newt laughs and it sounds high, almost hysterical, to his ears.

"Fat chance," he mutters.

"Nah," Hannibal demurs, digs hard fingertips into Newt's face and turns it and then Newt's being kissed, hard, teeth scraping and fingers pressing and it's almost enough to quiet the _oh god oh god oh god_ in the back of his mind. But then Hannibal pulls back and some background process must have completed because he blurts, "I guess you kinda saved the world, huh," and Hannibal laughs outright.

"Guess so," he says, leans in to bite at Newt's jaw. "You gonna give me my reward?"

A hand lands heavy on his thigh. "What? Now?" and that was... that was a yelp, ok, fine.

"Why not," and Hannibal's growling, and does this, does he, yeah, no, the kissing was good but he's pretttty sure much more and his brain'll spiral right off and yeah, no.

"Uh," and he leans back a little. Hannibal's hand stops moving up his thigh and yeah, sentences, Newt, you got this. "I think I need a minute?"

Hannibal sighs but he scoots away and the warmth is gone, the fingers are gone, and yeah, should've thought this through because now it's all sound and fury and no data and no distraction. Newt tries to breathe through it but it's not working and words, he can do words. "Kissing, though, that was good, how about we..."

Hannibal doesn't say anything, but hands, hands on Newt's arm, gripping hard and his thumbs are rubbing hard little circles and Newt sighs into Hannibal's mouth, bites a little bit and shut up, brain, shut up, shut up, and somewhere in the background he's freaking out and calculating and it's probably not ok but he's admiring, a little bit, because anything this awful is also awesome in the Old Testament kind of way and there's a hand on his face, squeezing, turning his head. "Focus," Hannibal growls and yeah, he can do that, he will do that, lose himself a little in this right now until he can catch up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLOT. This is like... the polar opposite of last chapter's eye-of-the-storm qualities. I hope you like it! I really, really enjoyed Super-Boss Hermann and Especially Bond Villainy Hannibal, but please let me know if you're not buying what I'm selling. :D Also, I tried to warn copiously, but please do let me know
> 
> I have a *lot* of thoughts on why Hannibal is so chatty with Newt, here. And also the original plan was for there to be a really steamy hook-up scene but it felt... creepy and exploitative in context and so I'm afraid that I am, yet again, deferring the good stuff. Ulp. There will be sex scenes, scout's honor. Gosh, I really am the slowest builder. I think it's story-serving but I do thank you all for bearing with me!
> 
> And now to the good stuff! First, I highly recommend everyone take a gander at cute lil' Newt and his red streak, rocking one of his horrible *cough he means awesome, no need for the balisong* gift shirts from Hannibal, courtesy indiasierrabravo/sierrapapaquebecromeo. It's here, and it's *fabulous*: http://indiasierrabravo.tumblr.com/post/65901778546/confusedkayt-indiasierrabravo-this-is-all
> 
> Also! I really want to shout out to the many generous reviewers, both here and on tumblr, who helped talk me through characterization and writer's nerves on this chapter. I really, really, really appreciate your boundless generosity, help, and fellowship! I hope that this is good payoff for your many kindnesses to me. :D
> 
> Finally, the Met currently has this great exhibit on textiles and the Silk Road, that is full of the goldest, brocaidiest, Hannibal Chau-iest things imaginable and in between that and the Rococo furniture exhibits I was probably over-inspired to keep on keepin' on with Hannibal's ridiculousy overwrought aesthetic. :D It was so much fun going through the exhibit and feeling like I understood some of the visual references in Hannibal's Onscreen Den of Sex and Crime much more thoroughly than before. Guillermo del Toro is such a visual genius! SQUEE.
> 
> ANYWAY. Thank you all so much for reading, and for your kind kudos and comments. I have never wrangled a story quite this large before and it's really a warm and nice feeling to know others are having fun alongside me. :D


	19. Fallout, Boys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place literally immediately after Chapter 18 (so 11 days post V-K Day)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: at the beginning of this chapter, Newt is experiencing and refusing to acknowledge rising anxiety that borders on a panic attack, although it doesn't quite get all the way there. If you want to skip past that part, you can control-f for "the usual pompous nonsense from Lars."
> 
> Also, I want to generally express - things are tense right now, and perhaps at the risk of messing with folks experiencing the narrative as we go, I want to be clear that I didn't sell you on a fun and happy bill of goods only to bait-and-switch at this late date. Once everyone gets their heads on straight, things will look up for all of the characters. That's as specific as I feel it's courteous to be (I don't want to spew spoilers!), but I wanted to make it clear that folks need not expect a turn to the dark.

His lips are sore from hard kisses and his arms are sore where Hannibal's fingers are pressing into him and it's good, mostly, kind of shutting off the tick-tick-tick of his mind or at least shunting that business to the back of his attention except for the fact that he can still feel the ticking and his phone's buzzing in his pocket and yeah, no, back to the real world for Newt Geiszler. He leans back, a little harder than he meant to, and he feels weirdly bad about it because Hannibal sighs, and it's a sad little sigh, and drops his arms where he's been gripping Newt like he's gonna run away which, hey, he just might. Right. Phone. He grabs for it and shit, he missed the call but that's ok, there's a text right after it, from JJ - and he doesn't read into the fact that it's her and not Hermann, he _doesn't_. It just says _Get out here. Now._

"So, uh, that's JJ, and I'm just gonna..." and he's up and sort of backing toward the door and Hannibal just sits there, looking at him, is that snarl or what is even going on with his mouth right now and... Yeah, he'll deal with that later.

Which, good call, because there's pounding on the door and it's a funny pattern and he's awful glad he stepped back to open it because there's the bald lady - wow, that's like... textbook murder-face, once you have seen this murder-face you are marked and will be murdered on account of face - and she's barking something out in Chinese and there's a lot of noise and wow, yeah, that's JJ elbowing hat-guys aside and Newt kind of flinches back because things are about to get _super real_ except Hannibal says something - god he is really learning Cantonese like, tomorrow - and everybody steps back except the bald lady, who JJ just brushes past like she's no more threatening than a doorjamb. "Hey," she says, and her smile is calm and fake as all hell. "We've gotta go." Hannibal gives a little snort, and JJ just continues blithely, "our ride's waiting, so I've got to borrow Dr. Geiszler here. Oh, and that datapad? Not internet enabled, so I assume it's all right if we borrow it..."

"Borrow, hell," and Hannibal sounds... unruffled. That does funny stuff to Newt's stomach - how is he so calm, _how_. "You can keep it." JJ shifts a little and Hannibal chuckles. "Told you, information from me to you, no strings."

"Thanks," and JJ is also ice cold calm somehow, except she has bonus deathwish because she kind of shoulders into the bald lady a little bit on her way out - oh, wait, that was in service of reaching back to snatch Newt's wrist and oh, yikes, incoming, he's gonna hit the bald lady, too. He tries to grin apologetically but that requires murder-face eye contact so he just mutters, "Sorry, sorry" and concentrates on not stepping on her feet and he's pretty sure that's Hannibal chuckling at him but it's a pretty dark chuckle, so.

Hermann is out in the hallway, white-knuckle clutching the datapad, lips pressed to nothing and yeah, no, one look says it's not a great plan to speak right now and Newt tries, he really does, to swallow his nervous laugher but he kind of gurgles and Hermann stops staring at nothing and turns pitiless eyes on Newt, one scrape up-and-down, lingering on his mussed hair and maybe his mouth and yikes, ow, that is so much disapproval that it like physically hurts to be on the other end of it. JJ yanks on his elbow sharply and the next few minutes are a blur of hallways and motion and almost tripping because he's being steered around so hard and trying to keep his head down and death glares and then finally, finally they get to the car except that's almost _worse_ because where is he supposed to sit, maybe he's not allowed to sit next to Hermann right now - oh god, maybe he's not allowed to sit next to Hermann anymore, full stop, and just...

And then it's over, he's back, JJ's grounding little shake works like a charm. "You all right there, buddy?" and he kind of smiles without meaning to because at least she doesn't hate him forever on account of making out the possible enemy?

Except nothing is coming out of his mouth, so. Stop. Breathe. Try again. Except he's a chicken and not even looking at Hermann when he asks, "So, uh, where do I sit?" and JJ kind of scrunches up her mouth and gives him a gentle push toward the back seat. Hermann's already climbed right in so Newt goes around the other side and hops in, shuts the door. If he gets far enough up against the side he should be able to prevent bumping up on Hermann, even by mistake, but not too far or maybe he'll pop the door open and right, yes, seatbelt, because that's a real possibility, isn't it, except he fumbles with it and slides to the side when the car starts without warning and of course he smacks into Hermann, of course on the bad side, and his miserable, mumbled apology elicits not one whiff of a response. So, seatbelt. Insert, click, done. He does his best to just zone out but it's not _working_ and Hermann scares the hell out of him when the guy suddenly barks, "for god's sake" and his hand darts out, bony fingers clamping into Newt's knee and it kind of hurts, he's gripping so hard and oh, right, Newt's bouncing a leg up and down. He does his deep-breathing thing and concentrates on not moving, which apparently requires all of the brain capacity that isn't freaking the fuck out about nukes and Lars and tick-tick-tick-tick-tick. At least the car ride passes fast, Hermann's fingers hard on his knee in a way that could mean comfort or just restraint and how the hell does he know, JJ's calm voice muttering a one-sided briefing into the phone, and then they're there. Just security this time, whisking them in and Herc's waiting for them, because of course he is, with a small army of aides and Tendo and for one wild second Newt thinks about just turning right back around and running like hell except that begs the questions of where he's running _to_ and who he's running _from_ and yeah, no. He's got this.

Herc's tight little smile is, like, the opposite of convincing. He steps close, close enough his aides would have to strain to hear him. "Sorry, gents," and he's keeping his voice down, not really looking at either of them. "This one's on me, I think. Stack..." A throat-clear. "Marshall Pentecost left a helluva lot of eyes-only behind him and I haven't..." There's a little choke in Herc's voice, his chin jerks down and Newt's arm kind of jerks out without his permission to land an awkward pat on the guy's arm which, what the hell, Newt Arm, Newt hardly knows the guy and most of what he knows he doesn't like much. He snatches his hand back and Herc kind of nods, and maybe his eyes are suspiciously shiny, and Newt swallows and mutters, "We get it, dude," except, wait, no, he doesn't get to speak for Hermann, not on this, and so, "Or, er, I get it, uh..." Hermann gives a jerky nod, though, so that's... all right?

Herc kind of fake-coughs and jerks his chin back up, abrupt, focuses on Hermann. "Dr. Gottlieb, I understand that you'd like to speak with, er, the other... with Lars Gottlieb before we take any further action?"

Newt flinched at the name but Hermann's steady, locked up tight. He nods again, too jerky, and says, "Yes, Marshall. I have... hopes that a conversation might be illuminating." He brandishes the datapad. "This... appears to be official, but considering the source..."

And that sends Newt's stomach up in knots because... because he doesn't know what's worse, if Hannibal's lying or if he isn't, because, oh gosh... Nope. He's Newton Goddamn Geiszler, he's a scientist, he's not going to lose it without knowing the facts.

"I agree," Herc says, and there's gruff sympathy in that nod which is... surprising, and unwanted, if the little tic in Hermann's jaw is anything to go by which, uh, it probably is. "Come by the office when you're done, yeah?" Hermann gives a stiff salute, which should be hilarious because it's with the hand that's clutching the datapad, but nothing is really very funny just at the moment. The gesture seems to remind Hermann that he's got the thing, thought, because he pauses to proffer it to Herc. Herc kind of blinks at it.

Hermann sniffs, "I have the information I require, and I presume you'd prefer to have that sooner rather than later."

Herc takes the datapad and, "Thanks, Doctor Gottlieb." Hey, look at that, the Jaeger-jock can learn, because Hermann's little nod is not as sharp - even now he's got a thing for his full title in the mouth of the brass. And then he's gone, walking with purpose and without a backward glance. Newt can take a hint. Even if it's a hint that things are So Very, very Not All Right, and oh, gosh, what is he even going to do now, everyone's leaving, Herc's calling "JJ, join us?" and he's just... left there and ok, fine, he can keep himself occupied until someone wants him for something. Maybe. Probably. Hermann's heading to the lab, got to be, they don't have the budget for good in-room computers and god knows there's no reception for a videocall on their chintzy phones down in the K-science barracks. So work's out. Nervous pacing it is. The roof's the least freaking-out-passers-by place for that sort of thing, he's got reason to know, so, ok, he'll just...

Except his phone's buzzing and - aw, geez, it's from Hermann. _You might as well get in here._ is all it says and yikes, wow, ok. He's man enough to admit his knees give a little bit with the relief of it because Hermann can't hate him forever, or at least not enough to keep him from wanting Newt as backup, and that's... yeah.

He must look awfully funny because Linda is unsubtly "just passing by" - like hell, her workstation's all the way across the floor - and asks, "All right?" in a very unconvincingly casual voice, but she backs off when Newt gives her a shaky thumbs up.

"Thanks," he calls, and then he's off like a shot toward the lab and Hermann and what is likely to be a really fucking terrible conversation but hey, that's practically the theme of the day.

Sure enough, Hermann is hunched over his terminal, tinny speakers spewing out what sounds like the usual pompous nonsense from Lars. Newt pauses to snag his desk chair - and wait, no, Hermann's pissed off enough today, he's not going to drag it across the floor because the sound drives the guy up the wall - so he lifts it but his grip's a little shaky and he's legit afraid he might clock Hermann if he puts it down right next to him so Newt settles for setting it down a little bit behind the terminal but dragging it the rest of the way over.

Hermann flinches, just a little, but doesn't huff or glare so either Newt's efforts are appreciated or he's not even registering on the annoyance scale right now. Either way, Newt settles in so he'll be visible on the call. "Geiszler?" And damn if it he doesn't feel just a moment of red-hot rage at the sight of Lars Fucking Gottlieb, who is apparently even stupider than Newt had thought and that's saying something.

"Present," and he can feel a nasty smile taking over his face. "So how's almost blowing up..."

 _"Dr. Geiszler,_ " Hermann hisses and right, yeah, he'd better sit back and shut the hell up. He wants to nudge Hermann under the table, god he wants to, but he's not sure if he gets to touch now - oh god, what if that's it, what is it's never again, shit, he fucked up but he didn't _know_ \- and Hermann's calf finds his under the desk, tense and pressing hard, and his so damn relieved for the second time in ten minutes that he's almost nauseous with it.

"Hmm," and that's Lars, unruffled and disapproving even now, dismissing Newt's presence as unimportant. Dick. "You must see that you are over-reacting. Think logically, Hermann..."

 _"Dr. Gottlieb,"_ Hermann hisses, basically involuntary, and Lars cracks just a second, just enough to show his surprise, but that calm mask slips right back on in a blink. 

"Think logically. The Jaegers were developed long before we had located the Breach..."

"Before _Hermann_ located the Breach," and that really is under his breath but Hermann's close enough to hear him and he jostles his leg against Newt's, which he can't even begin to decode - a warning to shut up? Thanks? Who knows.

"And before we had any kind of predictive model regarding the probable location of the next attacks." And again, that was alllllll Hermann - Newt nudges him under the table just so he knows that fucking Lars' fucking neutral language is not going unnoticed, here. "When they were developed, we needed a weapon that was possible to transport relatively quickly and that could operate in a populated environment. Those needs ceased when we could better predict Breach and the timing of an event. The Jaegers were inefficient, outmoded long before they began to lose, Hermann. You know that." Hermann hisses an angry breath but Lars matches him stare for stare and continues on. "If you had examined the schematics that had come into your possession, you would see the potential. Surely it would have better to destroy each kaiju before there was any chance of landfall. The prototype drones were designed to deliver targeted projectiles to vulnerable joints and if and only if that failed would they deliver a nuclear payload."

Hermann shakes his head once, sharp. "Surely the environmental risks..."

"Were considered," Lars bites out. "Which is why the drones had yet to be deployed. God in heaven, Hermann, there were other options. At the very least, collateral damage was horrific in each and every city where a kaiju made landfall and let us not pretend that damage was not greatly exacerbated by the Jaegers. It is criminal that the coasts were not evacuated long before, and if you had taken a single moment to examine the design of the Wall," and Hermann leans forward at that, checks himself when Lars makes a little tch-tch sound. "The Wall was designed to limit flood damage, to reduce the spread of radiation, to hedge against the possibility of eventual use of a nuclear option. And the use was _potential._ I will remind you once more that the prototypes were never deployed. Dr. Romano made a very convincing case that the kaiju were physically unstable and would simply disintegrate given enough time. The cost to coastal infrastructure would be high, yes, but loss of human life would have been minimal if evacuation had proceeded as planned."

"Can I chime in, here?" His mouth's ahead of his brain, and yikes, he's not loving the feeling of two Gottliebs focusing on him with hostile intent, but, "Ok, I've heard the disintegration theory - the untested disintegration theory - but we're talking 7, 8 days at the very least..." Fucking Lars makes his tch-tch sound again and just... no. Just no. "I don't care how big your evac zone was, dude, they hunt for population centers and some of them can _fly..._ "

"Which is precisely why we considered offensive weaponry," and yeah, minor victory, Lars is visibly irritated. Prick.

"And at no point did you consider supporting already-extant weaponry in the form of the Jaegers..." Hermann starts, and Lars shakes his officious-ass head.

"That is path-dependent thinking. Why wait for their move, why chase them, why allow them to move toward population centers and infrastructure, why place human pilots at risk when drones..."

"Can nuke the damn ocean in the same spot every now and again?" Newt snorts. "And good job with the evac, dude, 300 miles is nothing like the kind of clearance..."

"Political considerations hampered the evacuation process, it is true," and his words are calm but make no mistake, the jerkwad has raised his voice to talk over Newt and god he hates that, "no thanks to the lingering popular faith in Jaeger program, I might add," and Hermann and Newt make angry little noises simultaneously, even if Hermann's is more of a choke. "God knows I could not convince even my own son to leave coastal cities," and Hermann flinches but he covers it, Lars probably didn't notice, or he's got more tact that Newt's ever known him to display. The dick heaves a heavy sigh. "I will not pretend that deployment was not... considered, when models predicted a dramatic acceleration in the timing of Breach events. Surely you can understand that."

"I can't understand why this was kept secret..." Hermann starts.

Good luck with that, though, they're just spectators at the Lars Fucking Gottlieb show, apparently. "Because a panicking populace would have been a great help..."

"From top personnel at multinational defense organizations," Hermann finishes, icy. Good on him.

Lars snorts in a super-bitchy manner. "From Pentecost, you mean. A man so narrowly focused on his program that he was unable to react to its escalating failure rate with anything other than contempt for political leadership?"

"From top members," Hermann grates, and Lars softens just a fraction, blink and you'd miss it.

"It was deemed to be a security risk," he deadpans, and Hermann's leg twitches against Newt's. "Now, I must attend to..."

Wait, no, well, ok, so maybe this is not the most pressing issue, but there's a lot of damn pressing issues and, well, "Where does Hannibal come into this?" Newt blurts. Hermann huffs beside him.

Lars shrugs, half reaching for the disconnect button. "A talented weapons designer with extensive access to data regarding virtually every aspect of the kaiju?" Newt shakes his head because, nah, that doesn't add up, the UN wouldn't run straight to... But Lars isn't done, it seems. "His involvement also quieted concerns among some of the more... aggressive member nations who are thought to have been developing programs of their own, and he already possessed means and routes to transport the devices, facilities suitable for testing that could be easily modified for storage. I am not at liberty to comment further, of course." A sharp nod. "Good day, Hermann." 

"Dr. Gottlieb," Hermann bites out, and Newt can't tell if he's referring to his father or himself. "Is Hannibal Chau is possession of any nuclear weapons at this time? Certainly you understand that the PPDC is ideally placed to handle mitigation..."

Lars waves a dismissive hand. "Of course not. The last live warheads in the Hong Kong area were dedicated to Striker Eureka. Without UN clearance, I will note, but Russia was most insistent and the technical owners of those devices." Lars shakes his head slightly. "Chau is in possession of several of the drones - as I said, he is a talented designer and several models were being developed under the auspices of Elephant Industries." Lars snorts. "A terribly droll name, but of course you've met the man. Now, I will be going. Hermann." He hesitates, just for a moment, but reaches out and just like that the call's done.

Newt rocks back in his chair - waist up only, he's not moving his leg till Hermann does, that's for shit sure - and blows out a long breath. He's kinda afraid to talk and Hermann's not saying anything, just string at the computer monitor with a blank face and hands crumbled into helpless fists probably tight enough to slice his palms with the nails. Newt debates tapping on Hermann's hands to make him aware of the situation before he does any damage but Newt's not sure that's a good move, it kinda seems like a bad move, actually, and yeah, he's just gonna... sit. Supportively. He is going to sit supportively. And without moving. Yes. That is the plan.

And it's a pretty good plan, considering, but it's blown all to hell when someone comes banging into the lab, some person who's vaguely familiar but Newt can't quite place why. "Dr. Geiszler?"

"Call me Newt," he says, on reflex, and Hermann huffs beside him. Good, that's good, if he has the capacity to be his regular kinds of irritated. Well, for certain values of good, but hey.

"Er, Newt," and the guy kind of shifts awkwardly, because it's not hard to sense that all is not well in the K-Science lab. "So, sorry to interrupt or whatever," and there's an awkward hand-gesture, "but there's a woman waiting for you in Marshall Hansen's office, says she won't give these papers to anyone but you..."

"A woman?" he repeats. "Help me out here, dude, I'm kinda drawing a blank..."

The guy lets out an unpleasant little nervous laugh. "Right, right. I should've said. She's from Hannibal Chau's place, says her name is Li..."

"Li?" And geez, what's she doing here, and his stupid brain cooks up a half-dozen possibilities, none of them good. Defecting, stomach emergency, his walking papers - although maybe that would simple things up, kinda, except it's sort of terrifying and makes him feel awful and huh, yeah, got to think about that, what this is all gonna mean about his work over there and Hannibal and...

The guy busts right in on that train of thought which is probably a good thing, honestly. "So, uh, you're gonna come, right..."

Hermann huffs down into his lap. "Go on, Dr. Geiszler."

Newt would ask if he's sure, but that seems double-plus-un-good in the company of a stranger, so he just sort of squeezes Hermann's shoulder and says, "I'll text you when I'm coming back to the lab, all right?"

Hermann doesn't answer properly but waves his hand in a yes-yes-get-on-with-it kind of way so that's gonna have to do.

He's gonna wear a path between the Marshall's office and the lab - he's been up here more times in the past week than in the whole last year, probably, and that doesn't say great things about then or now. He kinda tried to crack the messenger-guy but he's just a nervous smiler and doesn't respond to normal conversational sallies so Newt's just giving straight up and yeah, ok, here they are.

It's kind of trippy to see Li perches nervously on a spare chair in the front office, trying valiantly to look like she doesn't notice the people "casually talking" across the room but who are clearly watching her out of the corner of their eyes. At least someone got her a juicebox. Geez, it's not like they don't know who she is - she spent a couple days in the 'dome, and, ok, fine, they probably _don't_ know who she is, none of these jokers set foot in the labs unless they really have to and oh, right, talking, normal human greetings, how about he get on that.

"Heya, Li," he tries, and she smiles, and it's cool but a grateful kind of cool, he's pretty sure. "So, uh, what brings you here?"

Her smiles goes pretty tight. "Mr. Chau asked that I bring you a log of the data on the stomach. In case you are unable to return to our labs for some time, we thought that you would prefer not to stop your work."

He makes grabby hands, and that smiles goes a fraction more normal when she rolls forward in her chair to hand them over. She jerks her head in a come-here kind of way and Newt leans down a little. He's sure there's crazy surveillance in this room, so what can it hurt, right? "Thanks," he says. "It's really nice of you to..."

Li lays alight hand on his wrist. "I am not a messenger. I would not have come here if I did not wish to tell you that..." She swallows. "I know Mr. Chau. I know that he did not mean to upset you." And Newt jerks back a little bit without meaning to because, what, no, this is not the plan, he's not dealing with this here, and if Hannibal thinks he can just... All secondhand, like this... No. Just no. Li shakes her head, makes a frustrated little noise. "No. I am not being clear. He did not send me. I volunteered, when he came asking for the data. I..." A little head shake. "We did not part well, you and I. I did not want you to think you would be unwelcome if you were to return to my laboratories."

Ok. That's... weird, and sweet, and it's a warm, funny feeling. "We really are bros, huh," he says, and crap, that sounded a little too intense, so he throws in a little laugh for good measure. Li shakes her head at him and oh, right, idioms. "I mean... Thanks, Li. That's really nice of you."

She nods, and it looks like embarrassment. "I would be sorry to lose you as a colleague, although I would wish you to be more attentive to safety precautions," and that last part is clearly involuntary, so he laughs, and she laughs, too, and it's all really nice for a second but then she goes all serious. "And I... I would not... feel it was right if I did not tell you that Mr. Chau is very distressed. He will not say it, but he is... upset. It would ease him to hear from you."

Aw, geez, no, this is... this is going to be a thing, this is going to be a thing he has to figure out, and just, "Geez, Li, I..."

She gives his wrist a little pat. "I know there are... complications. I merely... I thought it best if you had the important information." She nods again, and that's a getting-up-to-leave shift, and...

"Hey, Li?" and she settles back into the chair, focuses on him. "Did you... Did you work on any of the weapons?"

"I am a kaiju specialist," and that's not really an answer. She knows it, too, though, gives him a sidelong glance and continues, "I did some minimal work, consulted with Mr. Chau regarding the feasibility of his ideas on how best to identify wing tissue with minimal scanning time. Things of that nature. Mr. Chau, he... He enjoys the hunt, he enjoys the musculoskeletal diagrams and he enjoys projectile design. Sometimes we would discuss ideas. But I was not part of the primary weapons team, no."

Newt kinda shakes his head, taking that in. "So he did a lot of it, like, personally? Because that's pretty heavy-duty technical stuff..."

Li smiles. "When he could find the time. When business did not press, everyone knew to find him in the weapons design facility." Li ducks her head. "I do not feel comfortable discussing this further, here, like this." She shoots a meaningful look over his shoulder and yeah, their buddies from across the room are unsubtly creeping closer.

"Fair enough," and yeah, ok, his chuckle's a little strained but he's trying and it's... nice, that's Li's here. He might not be ready to tackle all of this business yet but this is... nice. He'll allow that much. "For real, Li, thanks for coming here." He kind of hugs the papers to his chest. "I really appreciate it."

"You're welcome, Dr. Newt." She nods, crisp, and takes his hand. Aw, geez, there's a lot of stumbling and confusion - he thought handshake, she thought help up from the chair and geez Louise she's got some upper-body strength - but nobody falls and there's a lot of laughing so he's putting this in the win column.

And then the door opens and Hermann's there, making sure to dispense one of his highest-grade narrow-eyes glares at Li. Her smile freezes, snaps back into neutral and she gives a short nod. "Doctor," she says. Hermann just sniffs and swans by her. Aw, geez.

Tendo comes spilling out of the inner office. "Come on in, Dr. Gottlieb." Newt makes to follow and Tendo gives a smile that's clearly meant to be easy but come on, dude, Newt knows better. "Newt, why don't you see the lady out?"

"You got it," and if he sounds a little pissed, well, maybe he is. Fine. Super-secret meetings and he's not invited are kinda par for the course, but they're dumbasses if they don't think Hermann'll fill him in later. Um. Or... not, but you know what, he's not even thinking about that as a possibility, nosirree.

Li gives him a measuring look as they slip out the door but doesn't say anything, which is good because... Newt is not the quietest, he knows that, and he's all wound up and freaked out and he doesn't want to spill he guts but that doesn't mean he won't, a little bit, if someone opens that door. Anyway. There's an awkward silence for a couple beats and Newt's scrambling for something to say, but Li beats him to the punch. Bless. "Do you want me to carry any messages back with me?" and she sounds... hopeful but like she's trying to be cool about it, and augh, geez, he takes back that 'bless' because, nope, here we go.

"I dunno, Li," and he's staying ahead of his brain on this one because he's not gonna pour lighter fluid on a volatile situation. "I'm a little mixed up?" He can't swallow his stupid nervous laugh so he just kind of lets that happen. "So maybe I should just..."

She lands a light little pat on his arm. "I understand. This is... difficult for you." She looks away and oh man, awkward, the Shatterdome always seems so big at times like this and thank god, they're at least in sight of the door. "But, Dr. Newt..." Her fingers clutch his wrist, just for a second, very light. "Mr. Chau does not wait well. Please consider that."

"Got it," he says, and it's kind of a stupid thing to say but it's all he's got.

Li kind of pinches her lips - it's almost Hermann-y, and that makes him laugh a little which gets him an odd look and he just shakes his head at her. Then they're at the door and she takes his hand, this time for a proper shake. "Goodbye, Dr. Newt. I hope that I will see you again."

"Yeah, me too, Li," and thus much is the total truth, Li's great, and yeah, he's gonna miss her if this all blows up. "Thanks again, for, you know."

She smiles, nods, and turns to march on out of the door. Ugh. It's like he's stuck in a really bad time loop - here he is again, standing at the door of the Shatterdome all by himself and kind of freaking out just the tiniest bit. Fine, fine. The pace-on-the-roof option is still looking good because, yeah, he's got some shit to sort out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi folks! Sorry about the rather long wait - I got swamped at work and really struggled to carve out writing time (or eating and sleeping time) but I'm back with a 5k chapter for your reading (hopefully) pleasure! I feel especially rotten about the wait because I really debated just having this be a mega-chapter with the last one because they really do follow immediately in time, but they key players and settings changed so heavily and a 10k chapter is... a slog for many readers. So I'm sorry to have left you in suspense! Hopefully this clears some things up, even as more complications are cropping up!
> 
> While we're talking turkey, I grounded this theory in the background we get on Hannibal from the novelization about his ties to weapons smuggling in Eastern Europe. I enjoyed stitching this all together, but I'd love to hear from you if you think something isn't working!
> 
> Also, can I just say... I really cannot thank the folks who have been commenting enough. I was a little nervous about the possible reception of this plot development, even though I think it's story-serving and will strengthen a good many relationships between a good many people once the initial shock wears off. It was a real comfort to me to get to talk it through with people and to know that folks were willing to hear me out. As always, if you're enjoying and/or have a correction or feel like something isn't working, I really treasure hearing from each and every person who feels like commenting. :) Same thing for each and every day-brightening kudo. Thanks so much for your kind reception!
> 
> And, gosssssh, it feels so good to be writing. It really is the biggest relaxation after a trying week, and a big part of that is the warm and kind community of Pacific Rim fans. It feels like there's always a little something to brighten my day. Shine on, you awesome diamonds. :D


	20. Catch My Drift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place the day after Chapter 19 (so 12 days post V-K Day)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: This chapter deals with possible neural damage, although a solution for reversal of that damage is also discussed and implemented. Newt is still a little unsettled and panicky in portions of this chapter. It's sort of hard to control-F around these things, so if you would like to follow along but would rather not read a full-on description of these circumstances, shoot me an e-mail at confusedkayt at gmail dot com and I'll provide you with a summary of events that doesn't go into the kind of detail that the full chapter does.

He's totally ready for this. Totally. So what if Hermann hadn't called or texted or anything after his Super Secret Meeting with Herc and Tendo. So what if he has some weird package that is almost certainly from Hannibal sitting unopened on his bed. So what if he only slept for like three hours and that was only because a suspicious number of people came to hang around on the roof and give him sidelong worried looks after he'd been up there for a while last night. He's just gonna march right into his lab and sit right in his chair and analyze the heck out of the crazy treasure-trove of data and first-person Otachibi observations he's got - well, that's he's been given more like, it's all straight from Hannibal but the plan is to have a Hannibal-free day and see how that goes, and so what if using the guy's data means that plan is kinda iffy from the get-go, it's the thought that counts, right? The point is, today he's Newt Geiszler, Shatterdome Scientist, All In a Day's Work. He's got this.

Except he opens the door and hears "Dr. Geiszler..." and Hermann is saying something else but Newt's busy trying not to look all flinchy because ouch they're back at Dr. Geiszler and no one is even _here_ , and anyway his Be Cool, Newt, Be Cool plan is not so much a success, apparently, because Hermann is pressing his mouth thin, but he says, "Newton," and it's clipped but not in an I'm-pissed-at-you way. Ok. That's... better? Except Hermann looks really rattled, not to mention _exhausted,_ and yeah, Newt's glad that the guy's not pissed at him but this is also not optimal and time to switch gears from "I'm in the doghouse" to "I'm here for you, best buddy."

Hermann makes an exasperated sigh, like he's been saying something while Newt does all of the gear-switching, and yeah, ok, he's on this as of right now. "Sorry, dude, I was... having a moment. So what's up?" Hermann shakes his head and mutters something under his breath but he still looks freaked out so, "Lay it on me."

"God forbid you manage to speak professionally about a matter of this gravity," Hermann grouses, and he sounds all tight.

"Ok, first of all, what, and second of all how am I supposed to know that the matter's all grave - and who even says that, by the way, matter of this gravity, and I mean, I guess it's kind of a Choose Your Own Adventure on big-ticket problems right now, so ok, maybe I could've guessed that it was a..."

Hermann holds up a quelling hand, uses the other to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Have you listened to a word I have said to you... Of course you haven't. Oh, just come here."

Newt comes, and leans in over Hermann's shoulder to look at the... ok, yes, there's about a million neuroscans thumbnailed on Hermann's monitor. "Ohhh-kay," he drawls, squinting, but they're all too small to pick much out. "What am I looking for here?"

Hermann shakes his head and kind of grump-growls. "I suppose it would be too much to hope that you'd simply listen to the presentation that I have prepared."

Hermann's chair jerks - oh, right, Newt's bouncing a little. "Nah, man, I'm all ears. Lay it on me."

Hermann's cough sounds suspiciously like "professionalism," but hey, Newt can be the bigger man. OK, he can be the bigger man _today._ Hermann taps at the keyboard, and two neuroscan images slide forward to dominate the screen. "We begin with a baseline, as a sort of primitive control. These two scans were taken from the Nova Hyperion Rangers moments before their initial neural handshake." A few more taps, and two new scans take over the screen. "Here are similar scans, taken near the end of the first mission-length Drift between the same two Rangers. Note the heightened activity and the altered neural pathways, most easily observed here, and here," and Hermann points the spots out on the screen like Newt hasn't seen this type of stuff a zillion times.

"This is textbook, dude," Newt grumbles.

Hermann barks a short little sigh. "I merely wished to provide you with an immediate visual reminder of a baseline as part of my presentation, which you agreed..."

"Ok, yeah," Newt mutters and Hermann shakes his head.

"Now. Turn your attention to these three scans. Both are taken from then-Ranger, now-Marshall Hansen. The first is from a post-Drift workup following a deployment in Lucky Seven. The second is from the post-Drift workup following his first mission with Ranger Charles Hansen. The last is from the post-Drift workup following Striker Eureka's seventh deployment." Hermann stabs a finger at the center scan from the first deployment of Striker Eureka. "Note the increased areas of activity, and the greatly increased incidence of changed neural pathways present in this scan. At the time this scan was taken, Marshall Hansen was adjusting to Drift with Ranger Charles Hansen, having previously Drifted extensively with another pilot." Hermann taps at the third scan, from a much later deployment of Striker. "And here, after extensive Drift experience with Ranger Charles Hansen, Marshall Hansen's scans show a pattern that is much more closely aligned with his scans from Lucky Seven than the scans from his initial Drift with Ranger Charles Hansen."

Hermann pauses and gives Newt a significant look over the top of his glasses. "Ok," Newt says because he's clearly expected to respond somehow even if he's not really sure where this is going. "I can see that, but..."

Hermann grunts and turns back to the screen. Fine. That was enough input, apparently, because there's another pair of neuroscans on the screen. "This phenomenon seems repeatable, although of course the data is very limited. You are looking at a screencapture from Ranger Raleigh Beckett during his first Drift with Ranger Mori on the lefthand side, juxtaposed with the scan from Marshall Hansen's first Drift with Ranger Charles Hansen on the right."

Newt whistles. "Good find, dude."

Hermann huffs. "I am not finished." Newt makes a zipping-my-lips gesture and Hermann shakes his head but there's no more than his usual level of pissiness in the gesture and something awful knotted up in Newt's belly starts to give a little bit. Right. He's looking at the screen. "This is a scan from Ranger Tang Jin Wei, who as you know Drifted with two partners in every instance." Hermann clicks, and another scan pops up. "Ranger Tang Jin Wei's scan remains on the lefthand side of the screen. On the right, we have Marshall Hansen's scan from the first deployment with Ranger Charles Hansen. While the differences in activity are statistically significant, this scan of Marshall Hansen bears closer resemblance to a scan from Ranger Tang Jin Wei than to either of Marshall Hansen's own scans taken during periods where he had long Drifted exclusively with a single partner." Hermann pauses here, but doesn't look at Newt for comment. Instead, he swallows, his back locking up tight, and yikes, so's his jaw. Whatever this next part is, it's the kicker and Hermann is freaking out about it a little bit. Still, his fingers only shake a little bit as he reaches forward to click once more. "Ranger Tang Jin Wei's scan remains on the leftmost side of the screen. The center scan was taken from yesterday's measurement session. It depicts your neural activity. The rightmost scan was also taken yesterday, and depicts my own neural activity." Hermann takes a somewhat-shaky breath. "While the scans from both you and me show significantly more activity than is present in Ranger Tang Jin Wei's scan, the pattern of activity and the pattern of alteration to neural pathways are much more closely aligned with Ranger Tang Jin Wei's scans than with a classic two-partner Drift scan such as the initial exhibit depicting the pilots of Nova Hyperion."

Ok, Newt thinks he can be forgiven for freaking out a little bit. He kind of choke-whistles and Hermann blinks, too hard, and continues doggedly on as though he didn't just more or less confirm that the K-science rockstars are pretty messed up, neurologically speaking. "Of course, while this is suggestive, it is far from conclusive. I considered the possibility that both you and I may have exhibited atypical neurological activity before initiating a Drift with..." Hermann grounds to a halt and shakes his head. "Initiating the Drift that precipitated the Breach-closing. However..." and Hermann clicks again, drawing up another scan. "Scans I had taken of myself when testing Jaeger equipment suggest that our baseline activity can provide only a partial explanation."

"Holy shit," and that was not voluntary so Hermann can just knock it off with the dirty looks. "Holy shit, are you saying that we're all messed up, like permanently...."

_"NO,_ and Hermann looks shocked at himself for shouting. "No. I am _suggesting_ that initiation of a three-way drift with a kaiju may have had a lingering effect that may be mitigated by initiating a single-partner Drift to overwrite any lingering effects of our Drift contact with the kaiju." Newt opens his mouth but Hermann shakes his head, so fierce it's almost frantic. "Marshall Hansen, for lack of a better term, _re-wrote_ his neural activity by initiating another Drift. It is... not inconceivable that we could do the same."

Sometimes it's not so awesome to be a genius, because he'd rather not see the big blinking subtext of this suggestion, but, "Dude, are you suggesting that you and I are gonna need to Drift with someone else, like...not each other, some other person..."

"No," and that's too sharp and too swift. "No. I... The concern is not that you and I may have formed a neurological connection and while I have no data to directly support it," and gosh Hermann looks scared when he says that, "it seems to me logical that strengthening our already-existing Drift bond may be more effective than further muddying the waters."

That... seems dubious, but who is he to argue, this is really more in Hermann's wheelhouse and you know what, if they try it and it doesn't work then they can try Drifting with other people but, just, "Oh thank god because I trust you in there but I... I don't want anybody but you in my head," and ouch, yeah, too honest, there, Newt, he's a little too much, always, but it just comes spilling out...

And Hermann's sort of gaping, sort of blush-gaping, and he very carefully faces away from Newt and focuses on his screen and mumbles, "I quite agree," and that's... that's something.

Newt's gonna go in for a shoulder pat or something - they're kind of having a moment, here, he's pretty sure, his gut's lurching warmly in a having-a-moment kind of way - except some part of his brain's been busy chewing on the implications of all this and chooses that moment to go off like a pack of firecrackers. "Oh!" he shouts and he kind of barrels back to his desk to snatch at the data from the livewire stomach sample he's got stashed over there. Hermann's talking but not right now, buddy, just a second, and - yeah, it'd take a while to get the data in usable format, right now it's only good for a suggestion but... "Hermann, dude, so..."

And Hermann is sighing and hauling himself out of his chair to come over to Newt's side of the lab, muttering all the way. "So I'm looking at the data I have on Otachibi's regenerated stomach, right? And obviously I'm only able to outline rough trends without loading it up for analysis," and Hermann makes his best get-to-the-point gesture, and Newt really does feel bad for keeping him when he's all freaked out but, "This is on-topic, swear to god. So, now that I'm looking at it, there's a clear trend that... There are clear spikes in activity every day at about 2 pm..."

"Which is when we are participating in the daily neural scans," Hermann finishes for him, and Newt doesn't like the whey-pale hue of his face but he can't blame the guy. The implications are... not awesome.

"I mean, I can't tell you much more. We've only started measuring neurological-type output yesterday, so..."

"Nonetheless, that is suggestive," and Hermann looks so freaked that Newt can't even bring himself to mind that Hermann's Mr. Interruptions today. Hermann nods hard enough to send his dumb glasses sliding nearly off his nose. "Right. That settles it. No time to waste." And he sets off for the door, fast enough that Newt has to scramble to catch him.

And because today is the day for horrible thoughts, Newt tugs at Hermann's sleeve. "So I... I get the urgency, buddy, but are we..." God, this is awful, he only half-knows what he's trying to say and Hermann is glaring at him and he just kind of closes his eyes and soldiers on. "So, we're both kinda... shook up? Like, did you even sleep last night, and this is not my very favorite day ever and I bet it's not yours either, ok, and I can hear you harrumphing, dude, I'm getting to the point. Just... are you sure that we're in any shape to Drift, or do we need to, like, take a couple..."

Hermann pinches at his arm, sharp, and Newt's eyes fly open with the shock of it. "We haven't got the time to wallow in petty upset," Hermann huffs, and he's giving his best Determined Face. "I am able to control my emotions and trust that you will do the same."

"Ok," and man, Newt is... not convinced this is going to go well, especially because Hermann seems to be suggesting that they Drift for like... a while. Plenty of time to chase the RABIT. Plenty of time to figure out if you can fight right inside the brain, no spoken words required, and hey, if anybody can pull it off... Except...

Hermann has long since started walking again, and Newt gets awfully tired of chasing after him, especially because, hey, he's got a solution here. "Hermann!" and that's enough to get him a pause so Newt doesn't have to run to catch up, which is something anyway. "So, I have an idea..." And that's Skeptical Face, so Newt waves calming hands. "Just... Just hear me out, ok? We're gonna have to Drift for a while, am I right?" Hermann nods an affirmative. "Ok, so, that's a lot of time for things to get weird." And Hermann starts to object, so Newt just steamrolls on, "Unless! Unless we have something to distract us. How about we hook into a simple simulator. Nothing hard - no battle sims, except, geez, that might get boring fast, too..." There's something poking around the edges of his brain, and it's a weird feeling - he's honestly not sure if it's a faint memory he came by the usual way or some kind of Hermann-Drift leftover, but he vaguely remembers something about planes, and spaceflight, and, yeah, there's an idea. "How about we take that spaceflight simulator out for a spin?"

Hermann sputters, staring at the wall, the floor, anywhere but Newt. "That... that is merely a calibration tool, hardly developed, a prototype, really..."

"Dude, Hermann, that's perfect." Newt risks landing a hand on Hermann's wrist, just soft, nothing like a hold. "We don't need battle training, just something fun to keep us in alignment. Yeah?"

"Acceptable," and Hermann sounds awfully funny, so Newt just keeps pace with him, all quiet, for a few steps. "Thank you, Newton. That is... atypically thoughtful."

Oh man, Newt can just feel the stupidness of whatever thing he's going to say bubbling up out of his mouth, so he just swallows it down and reaches out to give Hermann's shoulder a little squeeze instead. Hermann'll get it. Probably. Mostly.

Anyway, it's another hasty trek to the Marshall's office - this is really becoming a habit. It's... good, though. The silence is normal, comfy, Newt-and-Hermann silence and even if they're both freaking out, at least they're freaking out together?

Hermann kind of grinds to a halt in front of the door and goes through his pre-battle routine - straighter stance, chin-tilt, deep breath. Newt knocks shoulders and Hermann gives a slight little nod and opens the door. They aren't lucky - there's a bunch of people, sure, but no Herc or Tendo. "I need to speak to Mr. Choi, as soon as is practicable," Hermann orders, and sure, people listen to Hermann when he gets like this - someone's up and over to the inner door just like that, no questions asked.

And man, today is the day of Newt's Inconveniently-Timed Epiphanies because just as Tendo emerges it hits him. "Dude..." he mutters, just for Hermann, and Hermann makes a very put-upon sort of noise. "No, listen, I just... So if we're ghost-Drifting? And if the stomach sample is reactive? We're gonna need to shield that..."

Hermann makes Distaste Face, but he knows what that means as well as Newt does. "Very well. Do what you must." And he marches over to Tendo. This is more public than Newt would really like, but hey, LOCCENT's gonna have to monitor their Drift anyway, so might as well get it out on the table and it would look weird if he went running back into the hallway anyway. He kind of huddles into a corner- might as well pretend, at least - and pulls up Li's number on his phone. It rings once, twice, three times. "Come on, Li," he mutters and then finally he picks up. "Hey, Li, sorry to call..."

"It's me, kid," and oh heck, he knows that voice.

"Hey, Hannibal," and he sounds kind of weird to himself but he wasn't expecting this, ok, and it's... not the moment. 

"Wasn't sure we'd hear from you," and Newt can't get anything from his voice. He sounds... careful, almost.

Newt laughs, and so what if it's a nervous thing. "So, uh, I was kinda calling to ask Li..."

"Well, she ain't on the line." and yeah, Newt knows a warning when he hears one.

"Sorry, dude, I'm sort of out of it," and there's that damn nervous laugh again. Ok, fine, it's more of a giggle if he's honest, but...

"You all right?" And wow, yeah, no, that's danger voice. "I knew it. They keepin' you under watch?" Newt goes to reply and Hannibal growls, "Don't blurt it out, moron, if it's like that, you just ask after your equipment..."

"No, no, it's cool, everything's cool," and yeah, that's not convincing, probably because it's a big stupid lie, and Hannibal's growling and yeah, get it together, Newt, or you're gonna spark off an _incident._ "I mean, right at this very moment I'm kinda in the Marshall's office?" And yeah, no, that's not a good noise, better rush on, "Not because they're like, keeping me here or something, but it's... I mean, I guess you'd know about it anyway, not like Li wouldn't tell you, so I guess I could..."

"Spit it out," and yeah, that tone? Is going from bad to worse.

"So Hermann found some irregularities in our neural activity and our best guess is that we've got Drift hangover that's tied in with Otachibi's regenerated stomach somehow." There's definite growl-cursing, but it's muffled, like Hannibal pulled his head away from the phone. "Don't freak out, dude..."

"Who's freaking out?" and yeah, no, gonna cut this off before it gets started.

"Nobody? Well, maybe I am, a little, but, uh, not that much," and god, yes, more laughing, that's just what he needs to clam this down. "Because Hermann's got a plan, and we're pretty sure" - and Newt crosses his fingers because that's kind of a lie? Half a lie? 'Pretty sure' is a total overstatement but it sounds a hell of a lot better than 'educated guess,' anyway - "that we can reverse a lot of the damage if he and I do a controlled Drift, but if we're tapped into the stomach somehow that might, uh, might do more harm than good, so if you guys could shield it..."

More cursing, and Hannibal is hollering "Li! Get over here!" and that's pretty loud, even if it's not right into the phone. "That's a tall order," and Hannibal sounds pissed, but maybe a calculating sort of pissed, and Newt's stomach sinks because why didn't he think of this, gotta pay the piper somehow.

He swallows - stupid mouth, now is not the time to get all dry - and manages. "Listen, dude, I... I can talk to Herc but things are pretty weird around here and I'm not sure what kind of payment I can..."

Another awful growl. "Christ, kid, whaddaya think I am? Course I'll do it. I'm just thinkin' logistics, here."

"Oh," Newt says, and he's so damn relieved he can't even bring himself to mind that he's got no poker face. Poker voice? Whatever. "Thanks, dude, I..."

"Gotta keep that big brain of yours in one piece," and Hannibal's almost... Is that his soothing voice? Yeah.

"That's the plan," and god, he sounds awfully shaky, and now is not the time to freak out, but it's kind of hitting him now, the implications of those scans, and what if it's _progressive_ , what if there's _damage_ , and then there's the other part of him, the part that thinks maybe they ought to try to tap in one last time and damn the consequences because what if they can get a direct line to whatever's left of the hivemind and figure out if they're coming back - and god, the data, the sheer quantity of information he'd have to work with, the things he could _learn_...

"GOD DAMMIT GEISZLER," and that's a _roar_ , loud enough to snap Newt out of it even through the phone.

"Hey," and there's a mean-ass sigh on the other end of the line. "Hey, sorry dude, I kinda... I just..."

The growl's a loft softer somehow. "Calm it down, kid."

"Yeah," and he's going to find the neural mechanism for giggling and wipe it out one day, see if he doesn't. "Yeah. Ok."

A snort. "Let's bust this down into steps. What were you thinkin'?"

"Uh..." And he's drawing a blank, all of a sudden.

"About shielding the stomach. Come on, genius, what's the plan?" and there's an edge in Hannibal's patient tone that does a lot to snap Newt back into focus.

"For starters, better cut the power. The probes, the lights, everything." There's a weird tinny noise, a lot of scratching sounds. "I think your reception..."

"Nah, just put you on speaker. Cut the power. What else?" There's some noise and then, "Some help you are, Doc. How 'bout we pack it up like we were gonna ship it? Lead shielding around the glass, some cloth and rafia to stuff the crate, and a big wooden box around it all."

Newt forces himself to consider it. Metal, wood, packing material. It's a start. He should've thought this through before calling. "Sounds good, dude. Can someone have eyes on it, though, maybe keep the neural probes on top of the box which - ok, no, that's risky, might keep it active and there's no way that'd get a decent measurement. Argh, but how are we gonna know if it's active in our Drift somehow..."

"That won't show up on your brain scan?" A curse. "They are gonna monitor, what kinda Mickey Mouse operation you got goin' over there..."

"Yeah. Yeah, they'll monitor. I just..." Newt hauls in a raggedy breath. "Sorry, dude. I didn't... work this out before I called? It was kinda sudden, Hermann was all eureka and..."

"An' you went runnin' off to set up a Drift without thinking through how to keep it from turning that big brain to scrambled eggs. You got no god damn sense - 'm surprised you aren't trying to plug into the damn stomach." Ok, fine, he did suck in a breath, maybe, and it's enough to get him another growl and this one has some _snap_ to it. "Christ. 'Course you thought about it, you goddamn moron. You got no sense."

"So they tell me," and that gets him a grim little chuckle, at least.

"You're no god damn use. Lemme talk to Gottlieb."

"Uh," and Newt turns - sure enough, Hermann and Tendo are watching him and Hermann looks all kinds of pissed. "Uh, I'm pretty sure that's not a good idea."

"That sound like a request to you? You want my help, lemme talk to the guy who knows his way around a neuroscan."

"Hey! I totally know what I'm doing, and what happened to 'of course I'll do it, whaddaya think I am,'" and yikes, that is... not a good sounds, and yeah, no, maybe mocking Hannibal's tone is right at the top of the list of Things That Are Not Smart. "Sorry, dude. I didn't mean..."

"You're shit-scared so I'm gonna make an allowance." And Newt lets out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding, only to suck it back in again because, "This time. Now, get me Gottlieb."

Newt sort of stares at Hermann, who thins his mouth and shakes his head. "Dr. Geiszler, what is the hold-up?"

He knows his smile's none too convincing but pastes it on anyway. "Uh, Hannibal kind of wants to talk to you, but..."

"Oh, for god's sake," and Hermann charges over and snatches the phone. "Yes, what is it?"

And then Tendo's there all of a sudden, hand braced up on Newt's elbow. "Everything all right, here?"

"Yeah?" And Tendo gives him Don't-Fuck-With-Me face. Newt blows out a breath and tries for a smile. "What, oh, with Hannibal? Hermann told you about the stomach, and the shielding..." Tendo nods, very go-on-Newt, "Yeah, anyway, Hannibal's on board. I guess he's just... worried?" and that's weird, if Tendo's face is anything to go by. "I think he just wants Hermann to talk him through a little procedure, make sure we'll come out all right." Tendo arches an eyebrow and Newt shrugs. "I got nothin', dude."

Tendo just shakes his head. "Well, you boys wrap it up with him and meet me down in the scanning lab. I'm gonna go do the set-up." And then he's locking eyes with Newt, grasping his shoulder. "All right?"

Newt gives his best reassuring nod. "Yeah, we got this."

Tendo gives him a little shake, hand hard on Newt's shoulder, and turns all smooth to speed on out. A couple LOCCENT techs are hot on his heels.

Right. Focus. Hermann is seething at the phone but there's not much going on from his end. "I've half a mind to hang up on you," Hermann bites out, but then he thrusts the phone at Newt like it's a poisonous snake. "Dr. Geiszler, might I remind you that _we are wasting time,_ " he hisses.

"I hear you," Newt mutters, but yeah, hanging up on Hannibal seems like a stupid idea. "Hey, Hannibal, you still there?"

"You tell that friend of yours to watch his god damn tone."

The startles Newt into a nice, normal laugh. "Dude, he didn't even shout. A day like today?"

"Yeah, well," Hannibal grumbles. His breath's heavy, like he's walking somewhere -got it in one, Newt, because there's the heavy click of a big door closing audible in the background. "You listen to me, kid. I want a phone call the minute you're unhooked from that god damn helmet, you hear me?"

"Uh," because what if they need to do follow-up, and Hermann and Tendo will be...

"I said," and Hannibal enunciates, calm and quiet and deadly, "you hear me?"

"I hear you," Newt repeats, and there's a harsh huff on the other line. Ok. Ok. He's pretty sure Hannibal is freaking out a little, freaking out _for Newt_ and maybe he's... whatever the hell he is with the nukes and the double dealing but he's also _worried_ , worried _about Newt_ and that's... that's a thing. A thing he's not sure what to do with. "Hannibal..."

"I mean it, kid, I don't hear from you and I'm gonna get curious. I get curious..." And yikes, there's a lot of ways that sentence could end and none of 'em are good.

"I'm gonna be all right," he says in a rush, and that was... not what he meant to say, at all.

But maybe it was the right thing because, "Sure you are," and that's... Hannibal sounds almost nice - a fierce, scary nice. Strong.

"I'm gonna be all right, and I'm gonna call."

A snort. "Damn straight." And then Newt gets himself hung up on. Again. He wants to laugh but he's pretty sure that's the hysteria talking and yeah, no, not gonna go there in the the Marshall's office.

He's got this. He locks eyes with Hermann, jerks his head at the door. "You ready?"

"I have been ready," Hermann grumbles, but there's not much bite to it.

And then they're off, scooting back down the hallway at a rate that he's pretty sure Hermann's gonna pay for later but hell if Newt's gonna say anything about it right at the moment.

"So, something's bugging me," and Hermann grunts in a mildly interrogative fashion, but doesn't look over. Fine. Fine. Everybody's... a little rattled. "Tendo just kind of.... I mean, you didn't even bust out your Powerpoint."

Oh, that's interesting - Hermann kind of gives him a guilty glance, all sneaky and sidelong. "I may have... shared my theories with Mr. Choi and Marshall Hansen earlier..."

"Dude!" And yeah, thats right, you flinch, Hermann, you traitor. "They heard about _my brain_ before I did..."

And yeah, no, Hermann's miserable look isn't even taking the edge off Newt's upset because that is the very epitome of uncool. And Hermann's muttering something, but... "Speak up," and yeah, that came out mean, but he refuses to feel bad.

Well, maybe a little bad - Hermann looks pretty awful, actually. "I found I could not wait. And you were..."

"I was what, dude, asleep? You could've..."

Hermann cuts him off with a hip-check. "You were indisposed," he grounds out. "I do not disturb you when you are on the roof."

Ok, that's... But wait a minute. "How did you know..."

Hermann shakes his head. "I did not wish to intrude, after yesterday's... events. Mr. Choi was kind enough to..."

"Traitor," Newt mutters.

"He was.... concerned," and Hermann sounds like he's choking on the word. "About the both of us," and that last bit was nearly inaudible.

Which, weirdly enough, is enough to give Newt a little moment of clarity. Hermann's not exactly in a great place, and if Newt were on his game... Yeah, no shit Hermann had science'd all night after yesterday. No shit he's out of sorts, hiding in numbers... And it sucks, but, yeah, ok, he's hiding from Newt, probably, which... Yuck, but it's fair.

"I get it," he manages. "Sorry, dude."

"Hmm," is all he gets, but Hermann doesn't look so wrecked, so.

Newt does his best to stay out of his head for the rest of the walk. He counts steps, but that's not nearly enough and it makes him scuff his feet, which Hermann hates, and yeah, not today. Trouble is, most of his usuals are not great distractions, not right now, and ok, so steadily ignoring most of what's going on his head is... not effective, but hey, that must have been enough distraction in and of itself because, hey, here they are at the scanning lab.

Hermann gives him a tense nod- and god, his face, all smashed and determined and yeah, that's... not awesome. But Newt opens the door anyway.

And there's Tendo, lounging in a super-deliberately-casual way at the control bank up front. "You guys ready to plug in?"

"Like a toaster," and Newt's pretty sure that sounded cheerful? Nobody laughs, though, and Marion rushes to hustle him into a chair and settles a real, proper, heavy Pons on him. The vibe is weird - everyone's a little tense, and ok, he gets why, but that's.... not helpful.

Tendo gets it, and busts out an easy grin. "You boys are in for a treat. I loaded up the Hubble sim..." Newt glances sideways and yeah, that drew a half-smile out of Hermann which is basically a gold-medal victory, considering. "We a go?"

"Just a sec," and Newt scrambles for his phone, which is sort of hard without moving his head. There's movement, and Marion's over to help him. Newt snorts. "That _is_ a phone in my pocket..."

"Finish that sentence and you're a dead man," and that's more like it.

Newt gives her a thumbs up and peers at the screen. There's a text from Hannibal's number. _Shields up._ is all it says.

_I knew you were a secret nerd,_ Newt fires back. "We all set?" That's Tendo and oh, right, everyone's kiiiiinda watching him. "Yeah, it's shielded," Newt confirms.

Marion seizes his phone - yikes, yeah, best hope Hannibal doesn't reply, but she's snickering, so that's a slim hope. Newt waggles his eyebrows but she doesn't spill.

Tendo shakes his head. Marion steps forward and lowers sim-goggles over his eyes. He can't help it - they're off still, and it's so dark, he kind of flails, but she's got his hands. "I've got you," she mutters, and he gives a thumbs-up. She slips the heavy sim-gloves up his arms and Newt's about to say something but, "Don't even start, Newt."

"Who, me?" he says, on reflex, and she laughs, gives the gloves a last tug to make sure they're secure. "You're ready."

A couple beats - it's weird, almost like sensory deprivation, but he can still hear movement in the room so not quite.

"Newt, you ready?" That's Tendo, familiar and steady.

"Let's do this thing," Newt confirms.

"I am ready," Hermann states without waiting to be asked, and that's force-calm but it's calm.

"Initializing," and that's Tendo's all-business voice. It's easy to tune out the creepy Lady Hal-9000 counting down to the neural handshake in favor of Tendo's steady, "Remember, don't chase the RABIT. Stay in the Drift. The Drift is silence."

And then it's all blue, fast and loud and there's Lars looming over him so large, a warm rush and the taste of gold teeth, the sticky-warm grossness of a spitball hitting his face and laughter he ignores from behind his podium even as he's sick with nerves, hunger tear rip kill and he almost gets stuck in that one but Hermann shouts "NEWTON. Don't..." and that's enough to let it whiz by, red satin and model airplanes and too much, too much, he can't pick it apart and _blam_ , it's over, it's over and they're in a cramped metal room, shoulder to shoulder, screens and instruments beeping. "Drift is strong and holding,"and Tendo's voice is steady in Newt's ear.

Newt turns his head a little - Hermann's doing it, too, in perfect synch - and gets a shaky smile. "Dude, we did it," and he's surprised - speaking out loud is so present, loud and real and at the forefront. Of course. He's getting it from both sides.

His thoughts feel funny and he can kind of feel Hermann but not really - he hasn't Drifted, not really, not for long. He thought it would be different. More porous? More like it had been before, all blue and vivid memories, but instead its just... a heavy sense that Hermann's with him, the occasional arm movement that he's pretty sure he didn't order personally and a loud, fast buzz, information overload, sensor arrays and...

Hermann coughs - Newt does, too, huh, neat - and points at a panel in front of it. "Look, Newton."

His breath catches - the images are beautiful, yes, but he just _knows_ that they're looking at what Hermann knows to be ultraviolet fingerprints. "Why don't you talk me through what we're seeing?" and Hermann turns a full-on _grin_ at him, blink and you'll miss it, before tapping at the instrument. "We are looking at a real-time display of the Cosmic Origins Spectrograph, which is designed to separate light from the cosmos into component colors..." and that's it, Newt's lost in the warm blur of Hermann's knowledge and his lecture voice and my god, the images. Yeah, this'll keep them busy for as long as it takes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YOU GUYYYYYS. I am so sorry that this took so long! Work's just been a bugbear this past little while and so was this chapter - lots of research into the instrumentation of the Hubble (which was fascinating, even if I ended up cutting most of the detail as extraneous!) and lots of thoughtwork regarding how a Drift in a sim program would feel. I think based on what we see from Jaeger pilots that it still does some good to speak out loud to your Drift partner (or else Raleigh is just constantly noisy for no purpose :P). Between that and Mako's knowledge of the chain-sword, which was clearly not shared by Raleigh, and the Hansens' clear communication problems, I figured there's no way the Drift gives you full conscious access to your Drift-partner's memories. (Also, that would be a hell of a distraction when trying to fight kaiju!) So here's hoping Newt's Drift sensations felt... right to you folks. Let me know if you have thoughts, qualms, criticisms, or comments of any kind, really! :D
> 
> ANYWAY. There's a lot happening here, but I hope even with the circumstantial duress it's easier to see a path out of the stress-bombs dropped in the last couple chapters!
> 
> In the meantime, thank you so much for your patience, your comments, and your kudos! I am getting such a large charge out of doing the thoughtwork for this story, and that discounts the sheer fun writing and the little miracles that keep winding up in my inbox. Seriously, you folks have made writing this the warmest, most fun fandom experience I could ever hope for. I'm so grateful that you're still with me this far in, and still inspiring me right and left. It's such a joy to turn to you all when things are a little hectic IRL and know I'll always have a fun conversation waiting for me!


	21. Intro to In(tro)spection for Beginners

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place the day after Chapter 20 (so 13 days post V-K Day)

He's a dumbass. That is the only explanation for leaving his phone in his pants-pocket. Heck, it's the only explanation for sleeping _in his pants_ and ugh, he's got cotton-mouth and the funny, itchy feeling that comes from sleeping in tight jeans and whoever's calling him is the worst because that's way too many rings for just one call. Right. Fingers. He can do this, find his hand, and find the pocket, find the phone.... Newt pokes it onto the pillow and hits the little button for answer. "G'way, it's early," and his voice is all groggy and whiny and probably incomprehensible.

There's a snort, too loud for his muzzy head. "It's one in the afternoon, you lazy bum."

_Hannibal._ That's almost enough to wake him right up, but, "Sedatives are a hell of a drug, dude," he manages, sort of - there was a yawn somewhere in there and his voice isn't working quite right.

"They keepin' you knocked out?" And Newt might not be all that with it, but he knows danger when it's growling right in his ear.

"Nah, I told you yesterday - had to put me out for a long MRI after my Drift." Another yawn, and ugh, that one popped his jaw. "Whaddaya need?"

A huff, and an awkward pause. Newt's got the wherewithal to sit up, admittedly in a pretty halfassed fashion, and pat around on the nightstand for his glasses. Something crinkly on top of them - paper, right, yeah. He makes a grab for whatever it is and shoves it up close enough to read. _Hey, champ. Sleep it off. Someone'll poke their head in if we need you. Sorry about the pants - you put up a fight and, hey, a man's got limits. TC._

Newt snort-laughs, and there's noise on the other end of the line. Phone. Right. Newt snatches it up. "Sorry, dude, missed that. I was grabbing for my glasses."

"Something funny, or that just the laughing-gas talking?" and yeah, Hannibal doesn't sound quite normal but Newt's too out of it to be try parsing it out.

"Tendo left a note. Guess I wouldn't let him de-pants me when he was tucking me in."

"Good," and yeah, that's a growl, sort of. "They got you locked down in medical?"

"Nah, I'm snug as a bug in my own bed rug," and ok, fine, maybe he's still a little loopy because he's laughing at his own lame joke.

Hannibal kind of chuckles, too. "How you feeling?"

"Like I Drifted for four hours and then got knocked out," and there's a sharp breath in his ear. Ouch, yeah, too honest. "I'm fine. Just wakin' up still."

"I got that, yeah," and there's a snort and another weirdly charged pause.

Newt wriggles around a little - this is too much weird to wake up to. "Yeah. So. Uh, what can I do you for?"

"Got some ideas about that," Hannibal mutters, almost like he doesn't mean for it to be heard. Newt lets the silence stretch and pats around for his glasses with his non-phone hand. It feels... less weird to be having this conversation when he can see, at least.

"Seriously, dude, what's up?" he prompts, because, yeah, silence is not really his thing.

An annoyed noise. "Got a truckload of UN weapons inspectors comin' round my base later today."

"Huh," because that's news.

Hannibal chuckles, dark and fakey. "Seems they don't trust Mother Russia when they say we're fresh outta nukes in Hong Kong."

Newt snorts. "Can't say I blame 'em."

"Me either, but if they're around they ain't stashed here." Newt makes an agreement-hum, because, yeah, if there are Hannibal's probably got them good and hidden and yikes, wow, disquieting thought. "Told 'em they're welcome to come around if they bring you with 'em."

Yikes. If he wasn't awake before he'll pass for it now. "Me? I'm not trained for that kind of thing. Hermann, yeah, weapons are kind of his thing, but..."

Hannibal huffs, all impatient. "Don't need your sign-off, moron. Just want to make sure you're in one piece somewhere they don't have bugged half to hell."

That's... weird. That's definitely weird. It still smacks of worry, and yeah, he gets that, kind of, but... OK, so sue him, there's a lot going on and he's not at all sure what's up with the Hannibal Situation, on either side, not to mention, "Yeah, I don't even know if they're gonna like that..."

"Don't care what they like. It's a condition of the inspection." Yikes. So, that's a thing. A thing that's gonna screw up his chances of smoothing things over with the UN - although fuck those guys and their weird nuclear secrets and their holier-than-thou inspections when they commissioned the nukes in the first place.

Another weird pause and Hannibal lets loose a frustrated growl-thing. "See you in a couple hours, kid."

"See you," Newt manages, and ha, this time he's the one to hang up. Victory?

So. That's a thing. A thing he has not even the slightest clue what to do with, honestly. You know what? Screw it. First things first, he's gonna clear the slime mold layer out of his mouth and hop in the shower.

That's... not a smooth process. It's kind of a chore to peel off skinny pants when he's all gross and sweaty like this. And it takes a lot longer to brush his teeth than usual - he totally shouldn't have started the shower, even if it takes a couple minutes to warm up the water in there, but he knows from bitter experience that the hot water's liable to cut out altogether after a bit, so screw it, he's just hopping in that bad boy with his toothbrush and if anyone feels the need to bust in on him they'll deserve what they get. At least the hot water feels good, and it's surprisingly efficient to shampoo with one hand and toothbrush with the other. Totally to be considered for future endeavors.

Of course, because it's that kind of day, someone is pounding on his door when he slithers out of the bathroom. "Just a sec - gotta put on some clothes," he hollers, and it must be audible enough, because whoever it is lays off right away. Ugh. He's been kind of planning on lazing around and air-drying a little but nope, this is his life. Ugh. The first pair of undies he grabs is one of the red ones, from a certain You Know Who, and yeah, he could fish around for another but it doesn't mean anything if he puts them on. He's kinda earned 'em, for all of the craziness he's been on the receiving end of courtesy Hannibal Chau, even if he's... not too sure where he stands on the showing-them-off-to-the-giver front.

Right. There's another halfhearted tap. The time for dithering is over. He pulls them on and ugh, he's doomed to wriggling into a fresh pair of skinny jeans which is not a simple matter when he's still kind of damp. A shirt, and that should do it - he can deal with shoes later. He pads over to the door and throws it open.

It's Hermann, looking kind of hangdog and clutching a bunch of papers in his knocking hand. "Sorry to disturb you," he mutters.

Newt shakes his head, doesn't even try to fight the smile tugging at his mouth. "It's cool, dude. Sorry to keep you waiting." But hey, wait just a second. "You seem... awfully awake."

Hermann huffs, but his irritation doesn't seem Newt-directed. "Yes. Well. It seems that medical took it upon themselves to give you a much heavier dosage than would have been necessary for the MRI." He ignores Newt's startled, "Dude!" and just forges right on. "Believe me, I have already had words with them."

That sucks. No wonder he feels so out of it. And then, of course, a horrible thought, "It didn't affect the results..."

"No, no," Hermann demurs, pursing his lips all angry-style. "I was able to compensate. However, I take extreme issue with their fast-and-loose attitude toward patient consent."

Newt steps forward enough to nudge Hermann with an elbow. "Thanks, buddy."

"Yes, well," Hermann mutters at the floor, then raises his head to give Newt a critical once-over. "At least you do look rested."

"Yeah, 14 hours of sleep'll do that, I guess," he offers. Hermann doesn't really react, so, "What's up? Did everything..."

"The results are promising," and there's a ghost of a smile. "I don't wish to rush you, but if you'd care to join me in the lab..."

"Of course, dude, just lemme grab some shoes," but a quick tap from Hermann prevents him from diving back in his room.

"At your leisure, Newton," and yeah, no, something's going on - that's Hermann's funny, stiff Emotional Issues tone. "I merely wished to... Well..." He tidies is papers, fastidious in his nervous way. "Here."

Newt takes them. It's all text, that much he can tell at a glance. "What..."

"I hope you will join me in the lab," Hermann mutters, rushed, and basically scampers off like he's on fire. Well, huh.

He kicks the door shut and sits down on his bed. Let's see what Hermann's got going on. _Dear Newton,_ it begins, and his stomach kind of clenches up on reflex - so this is an Emotional Letter. Guess he could've seen this coming, after the Drift. Still, Hermann hadn't seemed pissed. He takes a deep breath, reads on. _I feel it is my duty to make you aware that I have acquired a certain number of clear recollections from your perspective as part of the Drift we shared. Of course this is not unexpected for a Drift of such duration, and I suspect you will find yourself in possession of some of my memories as well. Should you wish to discuss them, I will make myself amenable._

_I write in specific to alert you to the fact that I have become more closely acquainted with your recollections of Mr. Chau._ A laugh fights his way out of him at that - poor ol' Herm, that must have been awful for him - especially depending on what memories. Yikes. Sex stuff is a pretty common problem with Drifts, but he kinda figured he'd... know, or notice, or something, if anything like that went kicking up in the Drift? It's weirder in person than on paper - it's hard to lock onto things while the Drift's actually happening, but apparently some things get clearer after the fact. Come to think of it, he's got a couple of funny things floating around the edges of his mind that feel... too bright. Thinking about that is enough to kick one up to the surface - a sudden, hyperclear recollection of the thrill of hovering above a whole cityscape in the London Eye. Which, yeah, that's not his. His brain's suddenly eager to share and care - it's... deeply weird, what kicks up. Cut grass by a lakeside, badly-masked terror/fury in a doctor's office, and then, yikes, no, gut-wrenching, melting adoration, the scent of unfamiliar hair products and the taste of Vanessa's dear skin...

"Cut it out, brain," Newt mutters, because, yeah, that's intrusive as shit, even if he can't help it. He ticks through the bones of the foot in his mind, one at a time, calcaneous, talus, cuboid... Thank god, that's enough to kick him back into his own thoughts. Not that they're so great, right now, and hey, yeah, gonna focus on the letter and not on Hermann's love-life, thanks. Yikes. _I was thankfully spared any thorough recollection of ultimate intimacy, although I did experience a certain amount of kissing._ All right, fine, his laugh's a little hysterical now, but, yikes, no, Hermann shouldn't be stuck with that and the thought makes him feel really... funny. Especially because... Yeah, no, he's just gonna truck on through to the finish. _I found myself surprised by the depth of feeling you have for the man, as well as the depth of disquiet you experience regarding your relations with him at this time. I thought it best that you know that, though I trusted it was so, I now have a thorough firsthand knowledge of the surprise his news regarding the Wall of Life nuclear program caused you. I also want to make it clear that I understand you are in a state of uncertainty regarding Mr. Chau at this time. I wish you to know that I am prepared to discuss the situation with you, and though I remain discomfited by your choices regarding the man, I now better understand that disentangling yourself from him will be no simple matter. If you choose to discuss this matter further with me, I will not presume to dictate to you, although of course I may see fit to offer advice and perspective. Sincerely, Dr. Hermann Gottlieb_

Newt drops the letter and laughs in what is probably an extremely creepy way. His _life_ , man.

He takes a minute to just kind of let that all sink in before hunting around for clean socks. Yeah, looks like he's slated for a Feelings Talk, which sucks because he doesn't really have a good handle on the feelings in question. He's gonna go ahead and describe them as _extremely mixed_ \- ok, so, yeah, in the cold light of day, Hannibal working with Lars Fucking Gottlieb and the UN seems weirdly... legit? Government-sanctioned, anyway, like that's any guarantee of goodness, but at the very least it's not like... stone unforgivable evil to go all-out trying to save the world on two fronts, even if one of them's beyond shortsighted. If he's totally honest, here, it's really more freaky to face up to what it all means about the kind of guy Newt's got all mixed up with. Sure, boss dog black market guy who funds the Jaeger program is a big deal, but it's sort of a whole other kettle of fish to hook up with the UN's go-to weapons guy. That's _clout._ That's _power._ What happens if you piss a guy like that off? Not that that ever seemed like a good idea, where Hannibal was concerned, but still. And it's suddenly creepy to think about what Newt's life will be like if he sticks around. Hannibal's pretty shady, so it's hard to imagine that he'll want Newt for, like, political arm-candy. That's probably not Hannibal's deal? Yeah, hard to picture him palling around with presidents and prime ministers in public. They'd probably shit a brick. Unless Newt's gonna be, like, a dirty little secret... And yeah, that thought sits funny in his stomach. And maybe the fact that these are his first worries is sort of indicative of the fact that's he's got a problem, here, because if he had any sense he'd be more worried about how he was gonna get away from the guy but... OK, fine, it's probably not his big head doing the thinking but that thought makes him feel all panicky and sad and yeah, no, he's... not at all sure he's ready to be done with Hannibal. And fine, so it's not all a sex thing. He... likes Hannibal. Likes that he's worried, likes his style, likes the way he gets when he talks about kaiju, likes the way his mouth crumples when he's refusing to laugh at Newt's totally awesome jokes, the way he actually listens when Newt talks, and, just... Yeah.

Except it's not that easy. If this is the level the guy's dealing on - does that mean Newt's gonna have to look the other way from potential world-ending-mayhem stuff on the regular, because, yeah, that's... Newt's not a good guy, not like Hermann, but he's not exactly supervillain material, and, yeah, probably not up for supervillain-adjacent. Ugh.

He thunks his head gently against the wall. Yeah, no, he's mixed up. But still, time to man up and put on his Docs and go see Hermann before he has time to work himself up too much thinking aboutNewt's reaction to his little note. So yeah. He's gonna do that.

He's pretty distracted - distracted enough that he runs smack into some poor lady in the hallway, and she's pretty pissed even when he apologizes, but whatever, he's got an excuse. At least the walk from quarters to lab is short - Pentecost was a good guy, wanted to spare Hermann long walks. Unfortunately, that means he hasn't really had time to get his shit together by the time he barges in the lab.

Hermann snaps up from where's he hunched over his workstation. He's all Hermann-anxious - trying to make neutral-face but his too-wide eyes and too-skinny mouth are a dead giveaway. "Thanks for the note, dude," he offers as an opener, and it works, more or less - Hermann's stiff back relaxes a little. "Let's see what you got on the neural imaging front first, maybe?"

"Of course, of course," Hermann mutters, flapping his hands a little in his best discomfited way. Newt comes up to hover behind him, and Hermann turns back to his computer, fingers flying over the keys. "On the left is a still shot of a scan taken from you before yesterday's Drift. On the right is an image captured five minutes before the Drift was disengaged. As you can see, there is measurable change." Hermann gives him a Significant Look over the top of his glasses. "That is... encouraging. I theorize that, with repeated Drift sessions, we will continue to reinscribe neural pathways that will more closely approximate classic paired-Drift patterns."

Newt blows out a long breath. "That's awesome news."

Hermann's mouth kicks up at one corner. "For once, your use of that word is not hyperbole."

"Up top, dude," and Newt hold out for a high-five, chuckles when Hermann just glares at his hand. "Don't leave me hanging."

"Childishness," Hermann grouses, but gives a weak little tap all the same. Newt refrains from gloating because he's a classy guy. "Of course, we are not, as they say, out of the woods." Hermann straightens up a bit, tenses his jaw in that way he has before he says something that he thinks will provoke a fight he's determined to win. "While there is some uncertainty, it would be... prudent to retain active shielding around the neurally-active stomach sample currently stored with Mr. Chau for the duration."

He can't help his instinctive little groan because, seriously, that thing is unreal and there's a lot to be learned there, but he can't say it doesn't seem like a good call. "You got it. I'll tell Hannibal." Hermann looks straight-up surprised which is a little insulting. "Come on, dude, I want our brains in one piece, too."

Hermann looks like he's on the verge of saying something nasty, but gives himself a little shake. "Of course," he mutters. "Thank you. I... appreciate the sacrifice."

Then there's a lot of manly nodding and shuffling around. Eventually Hermann clears his throat. "Perhaps... Other matters..."

Newt groans. "I don't supposeI could talk you into busting out the emergency beer stash."

Hermann glares at him over the tops of his stupid glasses. "You have been recently sedated, not to mention the neural changes we are both experiencing. I hardly think neurotoxins are on the menu."

Newt shakes his head, and so what if there's a little extra flair to it. "I thought you'd say that."

"I am not, regardless of what you man say on occasion, heartless," Hermann grumbles, avoiding eye contact. "I can at least offer you a decent cup of coffee."

"You're the best," Newt manages.

"Hardly," Hermann mutters, hauling himself out of his chair to go putter with the coffee machine.

They sort of gravitate to the couch and plop down shoulder-to-shoulder. Hermann presses a cup into Newt's hand. He takes a gulp, mostly for something to do, and the groan that slips out is totally involuntary. "Yesssss. This is the good stuff."

Hermann shrugs, shoulder slipping against Newt's. "Mr. Choi was inclined toward charity today."

Newt hmmms agreeably and takes another slow, savor-y sip. This silence is the good kind, and he kind of soaks it up for a little while - long enough to kill the coffee, and that's a damn shame. He sets the mug on the floor and kind of stays hunched down. "I'm kind of mixed up, dude," he says to the floor. Hermann makes an I'm-listening noise, but that's it. "I guess you know I kind of really like him."

"Yes," Hermann confirms, and Newt has to smile - the careful non-judgment in that tone is kinda funny but kind of really great. "I guess I'm sort of starting to see what I've got myself into."

Hermann shifts a little bit so his leg is lined up with Newt's. "I... I don't wish pain upon you, Newton, believe me..."

"I know," Newt says, pretty soft, but Hermann must hear him because there's a pause, and a hand lights gently on his back.

"I am, however... grateful that you have come to grasp the gravity of the situation." Hermann tenses against him, and that's no good, so Newt sits himself up and nudges Hermann in the ribs gently.

"I get that," he says, and tries to gather his thoughts but yeah, no, that's a lost cause. "I guess I don't really know what I'm gonna do." Hermann pats him in the most awkward, clumsy, endearing, ridiculous way possible.

Newt kind of chuckles - ok, fine, he giggles, but it's a sad, weird sort of giggle. Hermann doesn't say anything, just nudges at Newt's shoulder with his own.

He's pretty grateful, actually, when Tendo comes spilling through the lab door. Hermann scoots away like he's scalded, which of course focuses Tendo's attention. He holds up whoa-there hands. "I interrupting something?"

"Just a coffee break," and Newt's voice sounds all fake-bright. "Which, thanks, by the way."

Tendo chuckles. "You had it coming." He makes his way over to the couch. "Scoot over. I come bearing gifts."

Now that he mentions it, Newt notices the guy's carrying three mugs with spoons in them. Hermann shuffles over a little bit and Newt finds himself in a Shatterdome sandwich as Tendo elbow in, passes out his cups. "You're in for a treat. Morty felt sorry for you guys and whipped up a batch of the good stuff."

It smells amazing, actually - and Newt's stomach suddenly wakes up. Huh. He's missed a couple meals while he was out, come to think of it. It's soup - almost stew, really, thick and chickeny, way better than normal cafeteria-grade. "Thanks, dude," he enthuses.

Tendo flicks him in the arm. "Close your mouth, buddy, we live in a society."

"It's not society, it's the lab," Newt shoots back.

Hermann snorts. "Hopeless," he gripes, shaking his head.

"Nobody gives side-eye like you, Herm," Newt snickers and Hermann ignores him in favor of taking a prissy little bite of his soup.

Tendo kind of shifts around. "So I gotta admit, I didn't come down here just to bring you lunch."

Newt jabs him in the side. "Yeah, don't think we don't see through your nefarious plan to horn in on our batch of Morty's good soup."

"Guilty as charged," Tendo admits with an easy laugh. "But listen..."

"Yeah, yeah, weapons inspection," Newt grumps.

Tendo shoots him a look. "How'd you..."

"Hannibal called me," he admits, and Hermann kind of draws himself up. "I think he was just trying to give me a heads-up."

And oh thank god, JJ chooses that moment to arrive, with a couple of other security guys at her back. "Hail, hail the gang's all here," and that's a sharp little grin. "Which is pretty convenient, because the rest of the inspection squad's running early. You ready?"

And yeah, what, Hermann and Tendo are getting up off the couch, too. "You guys are coming?"

Tendo shrugs. "We wanted a Shatterdome presence, what with the UN's creative approach to information sharing, so I'm the diplomacy and Hermann's the brains." Tendo kind of waggles his eyebrows. "That makes you the bait."

"Great," and if his laugh's a little nervous, nobody says anything about it. "Let's do this thing."

"Honestly," Hermann grouses, but follows him out just the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hooray! Rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated. Sorry for the long gap - Thanksgiving is always busier than I think it'll be! And plus I wrestled with this one for a while. Unpleasantly Lecturing Tendo Waking Newt Up was just all wrong, so I had to scrap draft 1 and start again, I think much for the better!
> 
> I hope you enjoy! I am getting such a kick out of Science Star Hermann and thinking about what the Drift might be like. hobbitdragon caught me last chapter - Hermann is now very aware of what it's like to kiss Hannibal Chau. :P There's just such a... deep and frequently uncomfortable level of intimacy implied by the Drift. Travis Beacham suggested that sexual sharing is very common for Drift partners and maybe even the single most common reason that people fail to synch up (http://travisbeacham.tumblr.com/post/55999542136/textsfromtheshatterdome-submitted-by), so I kind of ran with that and figured both Newt and Hermann might receive a little bit more of a glimpse into each other's private lives than they would have wished for!
> 
> As always, I've been really enjoying people's kind responses. I love hearing from you (including when you think something is not working as well as it could be). And I am just... totally floored to have busted through 300 kudos. I know Newt/Hannibal is not the biggest ship on the block, so it's *extremely* exciting to me to know so many folks are enjoying! Thanks so much for your generous feedback and for making this fandom so much fun to write for. :D


	22. All Fired Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place immediately after Chapter 22

_Ouch._ Newt jerks upright- which, hey, expected result of being viciously pinched- and it sends his head knocking into somebody's chin. Yikes. Hellllo, JJ, and he's whacked her hard enough to make her teeth clack. Nobody's happy about that situation.

"Jesus, Geiszler," she gripes, but she elbows him away from her pretty gently, considering.

"Yeah, well," he mutters and shut up, faceless UN security goons crammed into the equipment van with them, nothing to see here. Except they are all pre-shut-up for his convenience, which is kind of depressing because aren't they supposed to be, like, guarding, but they aren't paying any attention at all. This is totally the hum-drum-vee. Hopefully Tendo and Hermann are having a better time in the real van with the real inspectors, even if it is a PPDC van with a UN sticker slapped on the front of it because those jerks've long since pulled their own equipment out of Hong Kong. And then his thoughts are derailed by a yawn hard enough that something pops in his jaw. Ugh. He's still not a hundred percent, to be honest, and that's just awesome. Let's just walk into this situation all out of it and hope for the best.

JJ's kind of rubbing her jaw. "I didn't, like, mean to," he offers, and gets a little head-shake. "And, uh, sorry about..." and he kind of waves his hands in a 'so I guess you didn't sign up to be my body pillow' kind of way.

She snorts. "You didn't drool on me, so you get to live." And there's smirky face. "You snore like a chainsaw."

"Ughhhhh," he groans, and that smirk is like three quarters of a normal smile. Totally forgiven.

"Shut it, Sleeping Beauty," and an elbow prods him gently in the side. "Thought you could use a couple minutes to get it together before we arrive."

He kinda grumble-groans and JJ just snorts and waits 'till he's mid-stretch to elbow him again. "Bad touch," and yikes, no, tickling was not in the plan, "seriously, JJ, no fair, I'll sic the UN on you!" and maybe that would have been more effective without the slappy-hands and giggling but it tickles, ok?

Anyway, it breaks the UN guy right across from him, who sorta choke-chuckles before slipping back into his statue impersonation. It's enough to get JJ off him, anyway, so he throws the guy a thumbs-up and yeah, he's the boss, that's totally a smile from the forces of evil.

"You're awake, though," and yeah, no bueno, that's worried-face, even if she's kind of pasting a smile on it.

"Yeah, he is risen." Another snort from the peanut gallery. It's good timing, though. The van is stopping, going quiet. There's a lot of shifting around and everyone is whacking everyone else - he's pretending it's all giant-security-dude knees and elbows, but let's be real here, this is not a hotbed of safe gun-handling practices - but everyone makes it out of the van in one piece. They're in the middle of a warehousey district, everything big and gray and sort of anonymous. Or, well, comparatively anonymous. The big red-and-gold elephant painted on the side of the low gray bunker-type place they're parked in front of is real subtle. Newt snorts. JJ raises an eyebrow at him, and he kinda half-grins. "I guess that's undercover, Hannibal-style," he cracks, and she kinda half-smirks at that.

There's clearly some kind of protocol nobody bothered to tell him about - or that he didn't bother to listen to, maybe, he kinda tuned out in the van, even before he passed out - and everyone's shuffling into some kind of order with the security guys mixed in. JJ shakes her head and takes his elbow. "You're with me, champ."

"Yeah, ok," and he's grumbling but his heart's not in it. This is all more than a little freaky, not least because the guys hauling the door open are packing serious heat - like AK-47 serious. He kind of steps closer to JJ, enough to bump into her hip.

"Cut that out," she mutters, and elbows him out of her space. "Unless you _want_ your pet gangster to hate my guts."

Newt cracks up, just a little, but JJ fixes him with a level look. "You, uh, you aren't kidding."

"You tell me," and JJ jerks her chin. There's the man himself, talking to the UN bigwig heading the inspection, but as soon as Newt makes it through the door he pauses and even from twenty paces Newt can tell the guy's giving him a once-over. Newt gives a lame little half-wave and Hannibal shakes his head, says something to the UN guy and... Yeah, not gonna lie, when he played this out in his head there were a lot of ways he expected this to go, and none of them involved Hannibal would blowing off the weapons inspectors and coming straight to him. He only has a couple of seconds to feel funny about it, try to adjust the script in his head, and then Hannibal's there, sweeping him under a big arm in a kind of half-hug. It's not strictly voluntary - Newt kind of sags into Hannibal's side and yeah, ok, he's in trouble because he's _missed_ this, he _likes_ this -the awful churny-stomach feeling he's had going on is gone just like that. Some stiffness kind of leaks out of Hannibal, too, and there's a new funny stomach-feeling, a good one, because maybe Hannibal's in the same boat.

Not that there's time to bask in it, because Hannibal's spinning him out, clasping Newt by both shoulders, staring him up and down. It's... kind of weird, actually, and yikes, abort, abort, that hot feeling in his face prettymuch means he's blushing which is _not suave._ "Um, hi?" he manages which, yikes, Newt, again with the not suave. This is 100 percent Not The Plan.

Hannibal snorts. "You look like hell," and that's a warm sort of growl, but _still_.

Newt tries to wriggle away, but those hands tighten on his shoulders. "Gee, thanks," he grumbles.

Hannibal snorts, gives him a little shake. "Your eyes don't focus and you ain't runnin' at the mouth." Oh, that's _it_ \- Newt squirms, just for spite, and Hannibal barks a quick laugh, shakes him again. "Brought my medic around to check you out while I lead this damn parade." Hannibal jerks his head at the inspection party, and sure enough, the UN guys got sick of waiting and are headed over to interrupt them.

"About that," and JJ's voice is no-nonsense, even if she stays a couple steps back from their little reunion.

Hannibal spares her a glance and maybe Newt's making it up but he thinks Hannibal raises an eyebrow at her in a non-murderous fashion. "Your keeper can come too."

"Thanks," drawls JJ, and who says Newt's the mouthy one?

The UN guys are almost there, so, "But we're gonna have a chance to..." Newt starts.

One corner of Hannibal's mouth turns up. "Think I can make the time."

And Newt's shaking his head and trying to scowl but he's kind of smiling in spite of himself, at least until Hannibal lets him go, only to ruffle Newt's hair which, hey, he's in a _professional situation_ here, and he kind of squawks but then Hannibal's hand slides down to cup his jaw and he growls "Be seein' you," and that takes the fight right out of Newt for a split-second, which is enough for Hannibal to turn around and start talking to the inspectors.

"I was going to say something smooth," he grumbles at Hannibal's retreating back and yeah, maybe he's staring, but there's still no good reason for JJ to openly laugh at him.

"You are so screwed," she says, half-serious.

"Yeah, kinda," he admits, and there's the sinky-stomach feeling again. He's pretty sure that JJ's elbow is a solidarity kind of elbow, so there's that.

And then there's some guy in lab whites stepping up to them like he's been waiting for his cue. "Hello."

Wait - not some guy. "You're from the workshop."

The guy nods. "I am surprised you remember. You were... distracted when we met."

Newt kind of cackles and JJ's giving him a look, so, "Yeah, um, were you there that day I stuck my hand into the stomach sample?"

"How are you even _alive,_ " JJ groans, and the medic chuckles and kind of ushers them off to the side. It's quiet and creepy in this place - all nondescript grey hallways and high ceilings and cement floors. He's not cool with the silence but JJ's clearly on the alert and the doctor guy is two steps ahead of them, so...

"You're humming," JJ mutters.

Huh. So he is. "It's all quiet," Newt stage-whispers and she whacks him, gently, and because this is his life that's the moment Doctor Guy turns around to gesture them into a door.

Newt raises his chin and the guy kind of smirks but waves them in without comment. The room is clearly a little infirmary - brightly lit with a little examination table in the middle. Newt hops up and rolls up a shirtsleeve. "So what are we looking at, here?"

Doctor Guy is rummaging through a drawer by the sink, ignoring Newt in favor of scrubbing up. Then he's up in Newt's space brandishing a rubber tie. "Make a fist, please," he requests, and Newt does, wincing as the guy ties the rubber tie tight enough to pull at his arm hairs. "I will do a simple blood panel, to check for general health and any foreign substances in the blood. Mr. Chau mentioned that you were recently under sedation?"

"Um, yeah?" and Doctor Guy is clearly waiting for a little more than that. Newt shrugs. "I dunno, I didn't exactly pay attention..."

JJ snorts. "Here, doc," and she's fishing a scrap of paper out of a jacket pocket. "That's a list of what they gave him last night, with dosages."

"So much for medical privacy," and he's griping just for griping's sake, which JJ clearly knows.

"Don't see you kicking me out," is all she says, though.

Doctor Guy frowns at the paper. "You're sure about these dosages?"

JJ's smile has waaaaay too many teeth. "Believe me, they'll think twice before knocking him out that hard again."

Doctor Guy shakes his head. "I assume you are still feeling the effects?"

Newt tries to smile, even if he's pretty sure the end result is crappy. "Yeah, I'm Mr. Naps-a-lot today."

Doctor Guy frowns at that, then runs impersonal fingers up Newt's forearm. "You don't make it easy to find a vein."

"What..." Newt starts and then right, oh, tatts. "Sorry, dude, I forgot to tell you - I'm supposed to tell people to use a butterfly needle and go for the dorsal venous network."

Doctor Guy just snorts and turns back to his drawer. "You have no problem with needles? If you wish to look away..."

"Biologist," Newt offers, and Doctor Guy gives him an insincere little smile but taps at the back of his hand and stabs him, just like that, and it's only a few seconds before the little vial attached to the needle is full up.

Doctor Guy feeds it into a machine in the back of the room in silence. Newt kind of squirms on the exam table, but JJ shakes her head at him and yeah, ok, he can take a hint even if he's not exactly sure why it's quiet time. At least it isn't long before the machine gives a little ping and Doctor Guy is muttering and flicking through a screen.

Newt hops off the table and leans over the guy's shoulder. He gets an offended look and half-smiles. "Biologist, remember? And I'm curious." Everything's pretty normal - lingering traces of the tranq they hit him with last night, no surprises there. "Looks like I pass."

Doctor Guy gives him another insincere smile. "You iron levels are somewhat low. I would recommend that you take a supplement. Perhaps _persuade_ Mr. Chau to take you out for steak."

And yikes, yuck, now he feels _dirty_ because Doctor Guy is totally giving him this fakey smile of insinuation and judgment and yeah, no, that's not cool. "Maybe I will," and so what if he's kind of mumbling, he's... surprised, ok, it's not like he's some kind of sketchy kept man...

And then JJ's up, one hand on Doctor Guy's shoulder. The way he winces, she's squeezing pretty tight. Newt gives her a thumbs-up and she raises an eyebrow at him. "Gonna have to make sure you dispose of his blood." Doctor Guy looks discomfited. "Protocol," she says through her teeth.

Doctor Guy makes surrender hands and Newt kind of cracks up. "What, are we afraid Hannibal's gonna go all Billy-Bob Thornton..."

"Protocol," JJ says, and that's a don't-fuck-with-me smile. Doctor Guy meekly tosses Newt's blood vial in the biohazard bin and backs toward the door.

"If you will come with me, Mr. Chau has arranged for some diversions to pass the time during the inspection." Doctor Guy's all nervous smiles, now, and god bless JJ, who elbows him in the gut accidentally-on-purpose as she passes by while he holds the door for her.

It's another awkward, quiet trek, but at least this time it's pretty entertaining because Doctor Guy keeps giving JJ nervous looks and speeding up. "Good day," he says hastily, and waves them at a door before practically running away down the hall.

"What a douche," JJ mutters.

"Not gonna disagree," and hey, Newt has some manners, she doesn't have to look so surprised that he held the door for her.

A grim-looking dude in a grey coverall is waiting in the room. "Ms. Jones, Dr. Geiszler. Welcome to ready room for the firing range."

JJ basically lights up, but then checks herself and shoots Newt a super-dubious look.

Coverall Guy chuckles - not so grim after all. "Don't worry, Ms. Jones. Mr. Chau has warned us that Dr. Geiszler has a propensity for causing explosions without the help of actual weapons."

Newt can't help but grin at the guy. "Guilty as charged."

The guy smiles at him, but not in a sleazy way. "I assume you won't want to separate from Ms. Jones, so we've set up a table at the back of the range with some of your research materials. You will need to wear hearing protection, but Mr. Chau thought that Ms. Jones might appreciate the chance to blow off some steam."

JJ holds out her hand for Coverall Guy to shake. "Can't say he's wrong, even if I am a little surprised he bothered."

Coverall Guy smiles at her, a little mysteriously. He reaches back to snatch a couple of bright-orange headphone-type things, which he hands over. Hearing protection. It's been forever since he's had to bother - back in the day they made him do a little training because Pentecost was of the opinion that everybody on a military base ought to know how to turn on a safety - and oh, wait, talking.

Coverall Guy's all apologies. "...just small arms. All of the experimental equipment is part of the inspection, I'm afraid."

JJ smiles, easy, and rolls her shoulders. "I don't mind getting back to basics. It'll still take the edge off."

Coverall Guy nods in clear weapons-guy solidarity. He slips on some orange headphones of his own and gestures them through a heavy door. It's nothing fancy - a basic target setup, with clear markings on the floor to accommodate three people shooting at once, which, good thing, because someone's firing away at the far end of the room. Coverall Guy points out a table full of pistols and JJ makes a beeline. Not even a backward glance for her poor buddy Newt. Yeah, she wasn't kidding about wanting to blow off some tension, which, fair - this is not maybe the most comfortable situation they've been in, and considering they've been hanging out with a crime lord under heavy surveillance all week, that's saying something.

Then Coverall Guy touches Newt's shoulder and leads him to a little table in the back. There's a paper copy of specs on what looks like one of the drones for underwater use on kaiju. SCORE. He _might_ have done a victory dance and if Coverall Guy laughed at him, well, hearing protection. Plausible deniability. Whatever. Nothing's gonna stop this awesome science train.

And it _is_ pretty awesome, even if this stuff is not right in his wheelhouse. He knows enough to be getting on with - you pick up a lot in the PPDC, and even if Hermann's been mostly off weapons design it still wasn't uncommon for people to pull him in on a consult so yeah, Newt knows stuff. Still, a lot of the tracking system design is flying over his head a little, but the weapon itself... yeah, that would pack a _punch_. It's designed to target joints, motion-points, with a modified hollow-tip missile that deploys heat-seeking plasma-based bombs on impact. It's more or less an internal plasma cannon. Whether it would actually work is a pretty open question - ok, maybe he's biased because it's not his deal, but he's pretty dubious about the targeting system. The kaiju were all so radically different that it's basically a pipe dream to automate analysis of them beyond anything more basic than mass, and even that had proved pretty imprecise. There's a reason they had to be measured on the category system, is all he's saying, and straight automation seems like a shaky call. He'd have to run some numbers, but he's not too sure the little plasma-bombs would do much unless the missile had first pierced the skin so yeah, no wonder they never got these babies out of testing.

He's totally startled by a hand on his shoulder, enough to jump and dislodge his papers. It's a near thing, but he stays in his seat and of course it's Hannibal, smirking down at him. _Not cool,_ he mouths, exaggeratedly, and Hannibal tugs on his sleeve. Whatever. Newt's not nervous, he's not. He's getting up - and shut up, maybe he forgot that he hooked his ankle around the leg of his chair, so what if that wasn't exactly graceful - and then Hannibal reels him back in, tucked into his side like before. Maybe it's telling that he leans into it on instinct and yeah, the way Hannibal cups a hand around his shoulder and gives a little squeeze? Yeah, that's... nice.

Hannibal makes some kind of gesture with his free arm and there's a lot of flashing lights and a horn-blare loud enough to be heard through the hearing protection. That's some kind of signal, clearly, because Hannibal slips off his orange headphones and reaches over to snatch Newt's too. "An' here I thought you were the adult supervision."

Which, what? Except... Oh, wow, he did not see that coming. Li's here. In fact, Li's lowering a weapon, which is weird enough, but JJ's plastered against her back and that is Weird City Population 2.

"She's got a good eye but her stance could use some work," JJ returns, casual, and yeah, she's not stepping back, close against Li and one hand braced on Li's hip.

"An' you thought you'd show her the ropes," Hannibal snorts.

"I'm a giver," JJ drawls, lazy, but finally, finally steps back, but not very far. Her hand's still lingering on Li's hip - Newt is totally wise to her game. Well, sort of. Who knows if this a _thing,_ or if it's just now becoming a thing, but anyway, JJ makes it look easy. He shoots her a subtle thumbs-up because even if he didn't see this coming it's obviously awesome. JJ just shakes her head at him, but Li blushes a little so Newt shoots her a thumbs-up too. Hilariously, she blushes harder. And maybe he's a terrible person because he's laughing, and there we go, that's the death glare he knows and loves, now in economy two-pack.

"Don't let me interrupt," and Hannibal is just dry enough with the delivery to stay out of creepy territory. "Gonna talk to the doc in the staging room."

JJ makes eye contact - oh, wait, right, this is probably technically not kosher, but he nods and she nods back. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do," she orders and Newt cackles, considering, "which includes going farther than the staging room, just so we're clear. Don't give me that," and yeah, Hannibal's glaring. "You wanna explain why Newt's slipped his security to the UN weapons inspections team, fine, but I like my job."

Hannibal just sort of rumbles, not quite a full-on pissy growl, but steers Newt to the staging room. The first order of business is obviously peering through the window to see whether JJ's back up in Li's business, which she is. Li's calmly firing round after round, and JJ's face is right up next to hers, maybe offering shooting advice. Hopefully offering shooting advice? Because macking while firing guns seems like a danger-ranger choice, and...

"You little creep," Hannibal chuckles, and tugs insistently on his arm.

"What?" And maybe it's the tiniest bit creepy, but, "Come on, dude, this is quality blackmail. You'd be right there with me if you had to sit next to JJ and her elbows on the van ride home."

Hannibal snorts. "You got enough ammo."

"Fine," Newt grumbles, but allows himself to be steered to the back corner of the room. And now it's awkward, it's too quiet and it's awkward, and that's never a good thing because he'll just start talking and yep, here we go. "So, um, rumors of my permanent brain damage have been greatly exaggerated? Maybe? Probably. Anyway, Hermann says there's measurable improvement which, hey, not bad for day one," and yeah, that' a definite glare, so roll train, "Is that a 'why didn't you call and tell me' glare, because I totally would have, but I found out like, two minutes before we left for the inspection because seriously they knocked me out for like fourteen hours..."

Hannibal growls outright at that, reaches forward and kind of presses fingers to Newt's neck like he's taking a pulse. "Bastards. They tryin' to keep you out of the way?"

Newt laughs, an awful, thin, nervous little laugh, ugh. "Nah. Apparently they just wanted me to sleep because I, uh, haven't been doing that much?" Hannibal's pulse-fingers tighten on his throat a little which is both worrying and... Yeah, ok, fine, sort of hot. Ugh, what is wrong with him. "Which, Hermann already read them the riot act and so did JJ, I guess..."

"They won't be doing that again." And that's... not a question, but Newt shakes his head anyway. Hannibal leans close and yeah, yikes, that's a definite glare. "They keepin' you locked up?" Hannibal jerks his chin. "You just say the word, and..."

That's...ominous, especially because Hannibal's totally not finishing that sentence. Still, Newt looks him square in the face and says, "Nah, everything's prettymuch same as ever? I mean, yeah, sedatives that one time, but other than that, everything's..." Another stupid, shaky little laugh. "I was gonna say normal, but yeah, no, things are pretty fucked up, actually? But just because of the whole UN-maybe-nuking-everybody situation, and the maybe-we're-ghost-Drifting-with-a-kaiju-stomach situation. Nobody's watching me, I mean, more than usual, and wow, yeah, I am not doing very well at this reassuring thing."

Hannibal shakes his head a little. "You want out of there, I'll get you out. That's a promise."

Newt swallows. "I... Wow." He leans into the hand at his neck. "Thanks, dude. I think right now that would be... not so good. But I hear you."

"The offer stands," and Hannibal nods, decisive, like that's the end of the subject which, thank god. "Speaking of offers..." and yeah, apparently awkward-time is not over.

"OK, so, it's not like it's off the table but it's only been like a day, dude, and I think we need to get the whole nukes-and-the-fucking-Wall-of-Life thing sorted out before I can even think about working for..."

Something bad flashes across Hannibal's face and wow, yeah, grip hard on Newt's neck, but it's over in a second, replaced by a chuckle that's definitely in the sexy-growl-purr register. "Wasn't gonna ask about that."

"Oh?" and ok, his honest surprise is sort of melting into makeout thoughts with the way Hannibal's stroking his neck now.

"Oh, he says," Hannibal snorts. "Get it through your head, kid. You and me ain't all business." Hannibal pauses, sort of stares, and Newt nods which is apparently good enough, because Hannibal smiles at him. "Heard tell you could use a good steak."

Yikes, no, bad. "He told you about... Oh my god."

Hannibal gives him a weird look. "Told me you're iron deficient because you're a god damn moron who eats candy bars for dinner? Yeah, he did."

"Good," Newt says, faintly, and Hannibal's giving him such a spit-it-out look that, well, "because I was sort of afraid... So maybe he told me I should _persuade_ you to take me out for steak..."

Hannibal quirks an eyebrow. "That meddlin' sonnuvagun." He steps forward and wow, yeah, right into Newt's space, right up against him, actually, and the neck-petting stops in favor of sexy jaw-cupping. "Thought I'd be the one doin' the persuadin'."

Newt swallows, hard, and kind of tilts into Hannibal's hand. "I'm pretty sure I'm persuaded?"

"Humor me," Hannibal growls and yes, this, how can he even pretend he's done with this when Hannibal's kisses like _that_ , like it's his right, all warmth and teeth and the smell of him, Old Spice and money and a little bit of kaiju guts underneath it all. 

Then his mouth slips away from Newt's which is not cool, not at all. "Where are you go...ohhh," and Hannibal chuckles, fastens his teeth on that place behind Newt's jaw he likes and SUCKS and it hurts, but it's good, really good, except all of a sudden it hits him and Newt's cracking up, which makes Hannibal huff, all offended. "Oh my god, you're totally giving me a hickey, are you serious..."

Hannibal nips, hard, and then he's chuckling too at Newt's squawk. Ok, fine, Maybe it was a squeak. "You got it, genius." Hannibal's holding him by the shoulders now, just far enough that he an admire Newt's neck. "Looks good on you."

Newt groans. "Says you."

"Yeah, says me," Hannibal chuckles. Newt kind of steps closer, tips up his head and yes, good, more of those scraping kisses, and yeah, the way Hannibal's pressing his fingers into that spot on Newt's jaw... It makes him wriggling into it, half-climbing on one of Hannibal's legs and screw dignity, he'd rather have this, the way Hannibal growls when he does it, the way he pushes Newt's head right where he wants it...

And then of course, of course, somebody's pounding on the door. Hannibal curses but relaxes his hold on Newt enough that he can slide away just far enough to support his own weight. The door to the firing range bangs open and there's JJ, smirking at the both of them. "Busted."

Newt looks her over but she's not even rumpled up. Still, he does I'm-watching-you fingers and JJ laughs, steps in. Li's right behind her.

"It's good to see you, Dr. Newt," she offers, and yeah she's smirking too, taking in his rumpled hair and Hannibal's shit-eating grin.

"Ok, are we all just pretending..." he starts.

"The weapons inspection is almost finished, and the inspectors are asking for Mr. Chau," Li interjects quickly. She's blushing, yeah, but totally straightfaced.

Hannibal gives her a hard look, though. JJ waves her phone. "Tendo texted me. Thought we might want a few minutes' warning." She leers at Newt. "I can't imagine why."

"You are the worst," Newt gripes and Hannibal laughs, but pulls away. "Keep an eye on your phone, kid," he offers and yeah, ok, fine, they're playing it cool...

Except Hannibal reaches back and yanks Newt forward by one arm. Newt stumbles into him and there is it, those lips back on his neck and another bite and he groans, ok, who wouldn't, shut up, JJ, with your gagging noises.

He's gone before Newt really gets his footing back and yeah, ok, maybe he's a little breathless.

"You're a mess," and JJ is inordinately gleeful.

"Shut up," he groans but, well, that's true.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yikes. I owe you all an apology for my unscheduled hiatus - almost two months, geez. In my defense, a really hairy time at work overlapped with Christmas (during which my little sis decided we'd pilot a Jaeger named Bingo Kumquat!) and just kind of knocked the stuffing out of me. My job involves a lot of research and writing, and I found myself keeping long hours and being just... torched out. I've badly stumbled in my correspondence, with fandom folks and IRL as well, as part of all this. On the plus side, I've come up for air this weekend, and the worst should be definitively over by Friday. *knocks wood* I solemnly swear not to do something like this again, and see no reason that the once-a-week-or so updates that were my norm for this story won't again be the order of the day. I hope some of you are still interested in reading, and that you enjoy!
> 
> I also want to really thank you each and all for your kind comments, kudos, and bookmarks - they really helped keep my spirits up during something of a black period!
> 
> Now on to the fun stuff. I am SO EXCITED for this chapter - I have been really jazzed for this little firing range tableu with JJ and Li for more than half the fic! So thanks to everyone for your patience with the OCs in this thing, and here's hoping you liked this! I have a lot of thoughts on how Li came to be at that firing range in the first place, and they weren't a good fit for the story but I am happy to natter about that to the interested! Also, lord above. NEWT. BABY. You cannot just let your instincts do all of the deciding here. And you and Hannibal both utterly failed to talk about, oh, anything. In Newt's defense, he had plans. But he's never good at sticking to the plan and, well, he was distracted. :P
> 
> Anyway! Thanks to anybody who stuck with me, and I'd love to hear from you if there's anything you'd like to discuss!


	23. The Calm Before The Steak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place immediately after Chapter 22, still at Hannibal's facility during the UN weapons inspection.
> 
> Warnings (with some spoilers, so skip if you don't need 'em or want spoilers): Newt is a little panicky for parts of this chapter, especially for the phone call with Hannibal at the end. Additional warning for still-lingering effects of the too-large dose of sedatives given without Newt's consent, consistent with the last couple chapters.

“You’re lucky I like you,” and yikes, ow, JJ’s swooping at him with a comb and she’s none too gentle about it, either.

“With friends like these,” and he totally did _not_ deserve a that side-pinch, especially with crazy-JJ-ninja-hand-strength. “Now I’m all fluffy.”

“You know, most men leave the gel behind in college,” and JJ’s giving him a critical look. “Maybe I’m just trying to drag you into adulthood.”

Li snorts, and Newt gives her a ‘yeah, fair’ face because he’s lots of things but good at adult? Not so much. Still, she’s smiling at him. “It is good to see you.”

“Right back at you,” he says, and she blinks at him but the smile isn’t going so let’s count that one as a win.

JJ elbows him again, but gently. “Not to break up the science reunion party, but let’s not drag half the UN to a firing range, huh?”

“Good thinking,” he says, and Li’s smile kicks down a notch. “Aw, you missed us!” and he aims for teasing but it sounds, well…

“I did,” and it sounds like Li means it, so that’s all right then. “We will be seeing more of you, though,” and it’s not quite a question.

“Probably?” And that smile’s mostly gone now, can’t have that, so, “I mean, presuming there’s not some kind of weird UN ban on talking to you ever again, and that I’m not on lockdown,” and Li’s eyes widen, “which is totally speculation because I am not, can they even do that, they can’t, right? Anyway…”

“Mr. Chau will not allow it,” Li says, like it’s simple as that, and hey, maybe it is. Hannibal’s a guy who gets things done.

A soft elbow to the side. “I mean it. We better get back up front.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbles, but doesn’t resist as JJ bumps him out the door and into the boring grey hallway. Li doesn’t follow, which, bummer - double-bummer, as JJ pauses to give her a Significant Look, and he’s not a total dick so he kind of stares grandly into the middle distance and JJ, Ninja Queen of the Ungrateful Jerks, doesn’t give a warning before she’s towing him along.

He makes it like ten whole steps before, “Hey, so, you and Li….”

“Her stance needs work,” and yeah, that shit-eating grin? Not strictly professional.

“Is that what…” and whoop, there it is - a harder elbow to the side. “Come on! No fair. I don’t even get to…”

“No, you don’t even get to,” and he’s already grumbling but, “not after my front-row seat to your tonsil hockey. Multiple times. This week.”

“Like you didn’t…” and quick as blinking he’s in a headlock. A _gentle_ headlock, but hey. It’s the principle.

“You wanna finish that sentence?”

“Geez, fine, I get it, I bow to my ninja overlord…”

“Darn skippy,” JJ says, like that’s a thing people say, and he’s a moron because he wasted valuable trash-talk time on cracking up and now they’re back in the big front room and it’s time to put on his serious face because all of the soldier types are there.

JJ takes a deliberate step away from him and oh, right, Hannibal, even if he looks pretty engrossed in a pose-off with the head of the UN inspections team at the other end of the hall. Hermann’s in the general vicinity, giving total stank-face with a heaping helping of extra glare when Newt gives him a little wave which, ok, buddy, message received. At least Tendo is happy to see them.

Well, sort of. He kind of gives Newt a once-over with a little emphasis on the oh-my-god-I-am-an-adult-with-a-hickey zone, but it seems a little head shake is the worst that’s gonna come of that. “You all in one piece?”

“More or less,” JJ answers, lazy, so Newt just shoots the thumbs-up. Then there’s a lot of movement and muttering - must be they’re breaking up, because soldiers start trickling out the door. Hannibal’s shaking the UN guy’s hand, and then he steps back, stance wide, hands in his big red pockets. Newt tries to catch his eye, but he’s in full-on touch-guy mode and doesn’t even nod, too busy making sure they all leave or something?

“We got what we need?” JJ asks Tendo, all quiet.

Tendo nods, his standard suave smile kinda creepily constant. “Yeah. We have some things to discuss, but…”

“The Marshall sent a car,” JJ offers, and there’s a little more life in her grin. “I mean, maybe he’s just trying to save me from doubling as a body-pillow for…”

“Hey!” Because that’s not gonna stand. “Drugged, remember? It’s not like I could…”

Tendo nudges Newt’s foot with his own. “Inside voices.”

“Ugh,” he groans, mostly for show, but he lets himself be hustled outside and yeah, it’ll be nice not to crowd into a van with a bunch of people packing heat. “Shotgun!”

“Not a chance,” and that’s the worst, because he’s not gonna arm-wrestle his way past JJ.

It’s just the regular old black Shatterdome sedan and he’s getting too familiar with the middle seat because Tendo hogged the window and Herman is picking his way over and there are some levels of jerkitude to which Newt will not rise.

Hermann’s doing his teeth-grinding thing, so that’s a no-go, and everyone else is kind of silent as they pull out of the warehouse lot. It’s killing him, honestly, especially because Hermann landed a pre-emptive hand on his knee to stop him wiggling.

It only lasts for a couple of blocks before the driver and JJ fire up the in-car phone - annoying, it’s just quiet enough that he can’t really follow the conversation even if he leans forward, and even that makes Hermann squeeze his knee harder.

Still, he must take pity or something because he offers, “You will be pleased to know that we found no evidence of nuclear weaponry on premises.”

“That’s good, right?” And so sue him, he has to wiggle a little to get back against the backrest.

Hermann makes an irritated little huffing noise but doesn’t dig an elbow in, so that’s basically a win. “Obviously.”

“I mean, you sound pissed, so…” And that earns him another huff.

“You will forgive me if I am less than thrilled after spending the afternoon with a horde of scientists who spent the last five years in the manufacture of unlicensed and untraceable chemical and nuclear weaponry,” and Hermann settles back with a prissy little wiggle. “All Mandarin speakers, I might add, and while I can get by I am hardly familiar with obscure chemical terms.”

“Unlicensed? Man, I thought the UN….”

“Yes, well. The UN saw fit to classify this project as entirely non-public, and seems to have exercised no oversight on the personnel hired by that…” Hermann gives him side-eye, visibly chokes something down, “By Mr. Chau,” he finishes, and wow, yeah, Hermann’s trying to be _nice_. Newt leans on him, just a little, just it’s-not-going-unnoticed, and Hermann does his little throat-clearing thing and leans back just a teeny bit, just for a second. “We had long suspected that China had an advanced chemical weaponry program before the kaiju attacks. Nevertheless, such direct evidence is… unsettling.”

“You’re telling me,” and Tendo’s frowning, which is basically a Code Red on all its own. “Now that the kaiju threat is neutralized, nobody’s too comfortable.”

“So, uh…” and he’s not exactly sure where he’s gonna go with this, actually, but luckily JJ hangs up on whoever it was and cranes around to face the back.

“Good news. LOCCENT tracked down Marshall Pentecost’s files on Elephant Industries. We can cross-check what they were working on with that they told us they were working on.”

Hermann’s doing his side-eye again. “I will say that what they showed us was consistent with what I was expecting based on the UN’s report and the datapad provided to us by Mr. Chau.” Hermann coughs, wriggles back into the seat. “Unless there are other facilities, in my estimation we have seen every weapon that made it to the prototype stage. While many were still very much unsafe for use, they were all clearly kaiju-focused,” which, wow, that was even a _question_ …. “Some were quite… inventive,” which, pretty high praise from Hermann, especially considering.

“Huh,” Newt manages, and Hermann jostles him in the side. “What…” he starts, but Hermann outright throws him an elbow and makes a show of looking at the driver. Oh. Ok. Later, then.

Which leaves them with an awkward-ass car-ride now, that gets even more awkward when Tendo takes a call and actually kind of tries to screen them out with his hand. Maybe he’s maturing or something because he doesn’t even try to hear because, yeah, ok, maybe it’s just better if he doesn’t know certain stuff because of the whole Hannibal Situation. Still, it’s _torture_ to just sit there with JJ and the driver muttering away, tuning out Tendo, and Hermann’s no help, sitting there with his half-angry-frog/ half-Buddha face.

Someone’s hand on his head, gentling it back against the armrest. Damn drugs, he’s nodding off _again_ , must be, but he props open his eyes enough to catch that it’s Hermann, trying to get Newt more comfortable maybe, and that’s all right, then.

He’s kinda drifting around for a while, probably not long, before the car pulls to a stop. “Up and at ‘em, big guy,” and that’s Tendo all over. He tries to blink out of his grogginess - the heavy, humid blast of Hong Kong air doesn't really help - but he hauls himself out of the car, careful not to look at Hermann because he always feels pressured to get out of vehicles too fast and pays for it later and guess what, so does Newt.

“So, uh, do I need to debrief?” and maybe he’s just a little hopeful about it, because JJ kind of frowns in that get-used-to-disappointment way. “So that’s a no.”

“We’ll talk later, ok?” and that’s…. a disconcertingly sincere look. It’s kind of unsettling, JJ in not-mocking-mode.

Hermann clears his throat conspicuously. “Yes, well, I will be needing to retrieve the datapad from my office. If you are also returning to the labs, Dr. Geiszler?”

Tendo shoots Hermann a you’re-not-fooling-anyone look. “Be quick about it, ok? We have a lot to go over.”

“Of course, of course,” Hermann mutters, absently reaching out to pluck at Newt’s sleeve.

For once, he manages to shut up about it, probably because Hermann’s shoulders are up around his ears. He hates lying to the brass, so hopefully that’s it, but something’s up for sure - he’s walking too fast by half, especially since he’s been on his feet all this time, probably.

“Yo, hey, slow down,” and that slips right out, so much for the shutting up part, and Hermann’s clearly about to launch into the ‘I am not an _invalid_ , Newton” speech so he rushes on, “I mean, hey, still kinda a little wonky over here, with the sedative and all.”

Hermann’s lips press down to almost nothing. “Apologies,” he says, and Newt almost feels bad, but it’s for the greater good, here.

“No big deal,” he tries, and Hermann’s exasperation noises are really soothing because Newt is a terrible person, no sense pretending now.

Still, they make good time back to the lab, in part because Hermann scrunches up every time Newt makes like he’s going to start talking. At least his shoulders lower once they’re back in the lab, in their turf, with the door safely shut behind them.

“I am sure there is time for a cup of tea,” Hermann says, like he’s apologizing, but that’s not aimed at Newt so much as the people he’s keeping waiting, which is really not his style. Still, Newt goes to put the electric kettle on and they’re clearly still in shut-the-hell-up-Newton territory so he manages to keep it zipped, pointedly not watching Hermann as he clanks around with his fancy tea fixings. It’s not long before the water’s ready and Hermann nods his thanks, takes the kettle, jerking his head toward the couch. Newt can take a hint - well, he can take _that_ hint, and he’s just Mr. Restraint today because he doesn’t fuss when Hermann drags a crate over to set the tea on. And then he sits down, close enough to bump knees. The weird silence holds while the tea steeps, while Hermann pours. He staring at his cup like it’s full of secrets and it’s really, really hard not to wiggle but he knows Hermann stress when he sees it and it’s basically his best-bro duty to sit still, count the digits of pi, Newt, you can do this.

The spell breaks at long last when Hermann takes a sip of his tea and lets out a long sigh. “Quite a day,” he offers.

“You’re telling me,” and that’s good, that’s sort of neutral and he tries to give Hermann a get-it-off-your-chest nudge that isn’t also a spill-Hermann’s-tea nudge and wonder of wonders, it works. He’s awesome.

“Your…. gentleman,” Hermann starts, mostly staring straight ahead but glancing to the side all sneaky-like. Newt kind of nods, because it seems like the thing to do, which must be all right because Hermann sighs again and relaxes a little, just enough to let his back brush the backrest of the couch. “I hope it will come as good news to you that he was not… directly responsible for most of the atrocities I saw in those labs today.”

“Huh?” and hey, it’s not creative, but Hermann clearly has something he wants to say and so keep-talking noises are the thing.

Hermann shoots him another one of those sneaky side glances. “I… I hope you were not laboring under the misapprehension that,” a throat clear, “that Mr. Chau was one of the scientific minds driving the weapons innovations at his facility.” Which, what? But Hermann is already rushing on. “The scientists there were…. Well, quite annoyed, actually, with what they perceived at his clumsy interference. Apparently he was wont to barge in and offer ‘suggestions’ without a smidgeon of plausibility that they were forced to attempt to incorporate into their weapons.”

He kind of laughs, and Hermann gives him a weird look, so, “Nah, that’s no surprise. He’s a big picture kind of guy.”

“Very big, apparently,” and Hermann doesn’t look quite so freaked out now. “I am told that he offered hunting stories at annoying length and attempted to force his crews to tailor weapons to mirror his… allegedly prodigious big game hunting experience on a massive scale suited to the kaijus.”

That - ok fine, he’s not laughing, he’s snorting. “Sounds about right.” Except for the ‘kaijus’ part but if he hasn’t managed to drum the proper plural form into Hermann’s head by now, he never will. So what if he probably - scratch that, _totally_ \- does it to annoy Newt; it’s the good, familiar annoyance that’s the backbone of their weird little science-buddies _thing_.

Hermann hums, fiddles with his teacup. “Good. I had… hoped that it would not come as a blow to you, to find that he is not, at heart, a scientist.”

Yikes. Which means it’s a Relationship Talk, again. This fucking day. “I, uh, well, that’s not a surprise? I mean, it’s clear that he’s _interested_ in the kaiju, you know, in a more-than-just-business kind of way but science? Nah, man, he’s way too hands off for that. Li kinda gave me the sense that he kept up enough to make sure the trains ran on time but, like, I’m not gonna ask him to give me a hand with the sample tanks, if you know what I mean.”

“Good, good,” Hermann mutters into his cup, settling against Newt’s side just a little. It’s quiet again, but a mostly-good kind of quiet. It’s easier, now that he has something to do with his hands. Tea’s never gonna be his poison of choice, especially this too-bitter Earl Grey, but it’s always kind of been Hermann’s and it’s… nice, to have a little quiet moment after the last couple of days.

“I confess I was a bit… relieved,” and Hermann’s staring at the wall again. “I had half convinced myself you had shackled yourself to some kind of… evil mastermind,” and that last bit it muttered, grudging, and Newt can’t help but laugh a little.

“Supervillains, Herm? Isn’t that more my thing?”

Hermann kicks his ankle, but not hard enough to hurt, so it’s probably playful? “Apparently. He certainly looks the part,” and that’s it, Newt’s kind of cracking up, and Hermann is totally smiling a little bit, even if it’s tight. Another throat clear. “He seemed… concerned?”

Seems like this awkward, awful DTR will continue until the end of time. But Hermann’s trying, clearly trying, so it’s Newt’s job to get serious. Well, sort of serious. “Yeah. He, uh, had his doctor check me out,” and that’s not a good face, so, “just to make sure about the sedatives, you know? He, uh, he… doesn’t like that too much.”

“On that much we can agree,” and Hermann’s white-knuckling that poor teacup.

“Hey,” and Newt rests a little weight against Hermann’s side. “Hey, I’m ok.”

“Perhaps,” Hermann allows, but he’s still frowning. “You have not been yourself today…”

“Yeah,” he starts, but Hermann elbows him, light.

“…and I cannot help but be…” A pause, a sip of tea. “It was wildly irresponsible of them.”

“Yeah, I think they heard that, loud and clear,” Newt offers, and Hermann leans a little, harrumphing. “I mean, I won’t be taking anything from them without a full rundown of what it is at what dose ever again.”

“Certainly not,” and that’s fierce-face, but not aimed at him, thank goodness, but the annoyed little wiggle seems to close off the rest of Hermann’s tension.

Enough that it seems safe to tease, just a tiny bit. “What, I thought you’d like me slowed down and quiet, aren’t you always…”

“It is… most annoying,” and Hermann gives him a sly glance. “Your prattle is even less comprehensible when slurred and I don’t dare Drift with you in this state. I’m sure I needn’t remind you that it is a very sensitive time.”

Yeah, he’s not rising to the bait. If Hermann wants to bicker, he’ll have to try harder than that. “I hear you, buddy,” and Hermann’s annoyed huff is clearly put on. Still, it’s a good, easy, comfy routine to just sit there drinking tea - even the “Must you _slurp_ , Newtons” are kind of weirdly soothing. He must have Stockholm Syndrome or something. It’s the only explanation.

“Well, once more unto the breach,” Hermann mutters, finally, and he’s a little stiff getting up from the couch and, ok, fine, Newt’s a tiny bit worried but he knows better than to say anything about it. He seems ok, or at least better than he had been in the car - enough juice left in the tank to square his shoulders after collecting Hannibal’s datapad from his locked desk drawer.

“We will continue this discussion later,” and it’s almost a question.

“Sure thing,” Newt says, even if he’s not sure what discussion exactly, but it was the right thing to say because he gets a little half-smile for it before Hermann slips out.

It’s not a great feeling, honestly. It’s not _quite_ that everyone is hanging out without him, even if it kind of feels that way. He gets it, really he does - blah blah, security concerns, areas of expertise, whatever.

He kind of tries to work but his head’s not in the game and he only makes it for a few frustrating minutes before he admits he’d better pack it in. It’s a little too early to go to bed, unless he really wants to get all screwed up. And then it hits him, hard and sudden, the desire to talk to somebody and he’s like thirty seconds away from going to bug Mako or something before he gives in to the inevitable and takes out his phone.

And hey, he can be responsible, so he dashes out a quick text to Tendo and JJ, just **I’m gonna call Hannibal.** He even waits like a whole minute for a response but, oh, right, super secret meeting. Whatever. He’s done his part. He dials before he can talk himself out of it.

Something bad leaks right out of him when Hannibal picks up on the second ring, growls “Hey, kid.”

“Hello, handsome,” he drawls, but he kind of spoils it by laughing.

Hannibal snorts too. “You little shit.”

“Hey!” he protests, and there’s another snort, a fond sort of snort, he’s pretty sure.

A little beat and then, “You callin’ for a reason, or just breathin’ on my phone line?” and he’s sixty percent sure that Hannibal’s kidding?

“Just to say hi, and, uh, whatchadoingtomorrowevening?” And his chest’s tight, suddenly, because maybe this is too much, or something, or against the rules he’s pretty sure exist even if he hasn’t figured them out exactly.

Another snort. “Got a hot date,” and wow, yeah, didn’t see that one coming. Well, yeah, he’d kind of assumed they were exclusive but it’s not like they’d talked about it or anything and yeah, don’t mind him, his stomach’s just sinking through the floor and maybe he’s dying, ok…

“…you there, kid?” And yeah, ok, pull yourself together, Newt.

“Yeah,” he manages, and ok, fine, probably it sounds a little weird, well, he sounds weird to himself, so… “Sorry. Bad reception?” he tries.

“I _said_ ,” and he doesn’t sound annoyed, so that’s good, right? Be cool, Newt, be cool. “Thought I was takin’ my boy out on the town for a good steak.”

It’s sort of dumb, the way he’s so totally, totally relieved that he’s almost melty with it. And he’s totally failing at phone because there’s a shuffling noise and, “Unless he’s callin’ to tell me different,” and Hannibal doesn’t do questions, but that’s… a little uncertain, maybe, and get it together, Newt, right now.

“No, I was kind of calling to make sure?” and he hates that whiny, questioning note in his voice.

Hannibal doesn’t notice, or doesn't mind, because he just gravels, “Well, get sure, and you best tell the thought police you’re gonna bunk over,” which, wow, yes.

“I will,” and that came out all stupid and breathy, and he knocks wood because it’s not like he’s exactly _checked_ but he’s a grown adult and he wants to do this, so he’s going to. Yeah.

There’s a weird pause, and he’s just kind of trying to get ahold of himself and his breathing, and Hannibal cuts in, “You all right?” and his voice is kind of soft and growly at the same time and that _does things_ to Newt’s stomach, it just does.

Still. He’s not gonna let Hannibal get freaked out, because that way badness lies, he’s certain-sure. “Yeah, sorry. It’s just… been a weird day?”

Hannibal huff-sighs into the phone. “You’re tellin’ me.”

“Yeah, totally, and it’s just kind of, well, it’s really good to hear your voice,” and that just snuck out, this is what he gets for calling without a plan, he gets to be a weird, freaky, need-monster and he’s probably screwed everything up and…

“Could say the same,” and that’s… soft, for Hannibal, and all of Newt’s freaking out seems kind of stupid now.

“Yeah,” he says, just for something to say. “Yeah. So, uh, maybe I’d better…”

“Go sleep it off? Yeah you better,” and it’s an order, but, like, a nice-sounding one.

“Yes, sir,” and he’s joking, but Hannibal’s sharp breath is… interesting.

“G’night, kiddo,” and that’s a deep voice, a promise voice. “Lookin’ forward to it,” and hey, that’s good, that’s real good, even if he did get hung up on again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I feel like I have some 'splainin' to do, but... no actual good explanation? I kind of got in my head about this chapter, and then felt so crazy guilty about taking a long time to get it out that I got even more in my head, and then some weirdo hacked my fandom g-mail, and then I just kind of.... hid for a while and was miserably unproductive. I tried all kinds of things to get me out of my slump - re-viewings, re-readings of your awesome comments, cons, even a cosplay of Newt despite the fact that my congoing pals did a group costume for another fandom, even a chapter of another fic. I even lucked out and got to see Rinko Kikuchi in person (I got to go to a premiere of Kumiko, The Treasure Hunter [through my MOMA membership, not some awesome double life as a Film Person or whatever], and even if the movie wasn't my cup of tea, Mako's actress has such rockin' style and basically radiates kindness and generosity!) I don't know what it was, but this week, the faucet just turned back on and this chapter came tripping off the keyboard like I'd never had my little freakout. I'm really, really sorry! In case it was not clear from context, we're in the home stretch. I'm not sure if it'll be any comfort, what with my track record, but I have really high hopes that putting this up and out there will get me out of my weird headspace and let me finish with the reasonable speed that used to be my norm. I solemnly swear I won't leave this unfinished, and all I can do is offer my profound apologies to everyone who was reading along and got suddenly hung out to dry, and most especially to my pals who were such a sustaining force for me in the comment section.
> 
> In any case, I hope that any readers, old and new, enjoy this new bit and the rest of what's to come. Thanks to anyone who's joining me now or who stuck around! I'd love to talk about anything with you in the comments, so do drop me a line if you're so inclined.
> 
> PS: I wanted to offer special thanks to RenaKat11, whose kind comment came at just the right time. :)


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